Number 43 Unfazed
by Blaksanity
Summary: Rukia Kuchiki is part of the most elite team of Security Guards in the entire Soul Security Group, owned by Billionare Isshin Shiba. She's bored, wants to be entertained and challenged by someone, after a long year of work and work only. She soon meets Ichigo Kurosaki, son of her Boss, struggles with him initially, then finds that he can give her what she's always wanted.
1. chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own bleach or any of the characters and all credit is respected towards Tite Kubo, Creator of Bleach.

Mature, Ichiruki Content to come! Enjoy... because I sure hell am. This chapter along with the next few may be more so of an introduction. But enjoy the concepts!

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The violet eyed petite stared out of the window with no particular effort in her gaze, viewing the daytime scene of tokyo's cityscape. It was twelve O'clock, as displayed on the large digital time viewer positioned above the lift door at the end of the top floor office, and Rukia Kuchiki sat on the lounge in silence, with once again, no particular desire to do anything. She ignored the ticking of the clocks placed on the nearby glass desks, as did she ignore the pointless, stupid chat between the group of males crowded around the desk computers. She stated a stare that exerted not much of interest towards anything... but a simple, speculative stare all the same.

 _Can't there be a little fucking excitement round here?_ She muttered internally for the thousandth time.

She, along with two other females and five other males worked together in this top floor of a fifty-story Glass complex. They were a team, situated in a specialised department of their company.

Rukia Kuchiki had worked for Soul Security, or the S.S for two years now. The S.S, founded by billionaire and former Japanese Government Police official Isshin Shiba, had been in service for over fifty years, both working as a global security service with an elite team of Specially trained security guards and soldiers for escort and Celebrity, politician and royalty, and a companion of the Japanese police force with assistance in case after case and terrorist threat countermeasures.

The S.S consisted of five main departments, the Head department, Forensic and engineering department, Legal Department, Foreign Trade department, and the Field department. The Head department ruled over the other four, and centred around the decisions and orders made by Shiba Isshin, who had the final say towards actions taken for the company and for the associated services. The forensic and engineering department worked immensely over the formation of new weaponry, technology and equipment formulated for the Security guards and their escort and other services, and were also responsible for the analytics and observations and reports made from samples and subjects taken directly from crime scenes, to hence conclude their respected cases. The legal department were responsible for legal protection, custody and the rights of victims in their cases, along with holding responsible for all paperwork and client needs overseas for specific escort and protection requests from the S.S guards. The foreign trade department were held accountable for all produce, products and purchases made for the headquarters and devised the most efficient of purchase plans for weapons and other needed items.

The field department, comprised of five hundred, immaculately trained S.S guards, were the individuals to carry out their assignee escorts, assist in the regulation of riots and worked alongside and in dominance to the police during terrorist attacks. They were simply required to be perfect in every and any way possible.

But among these five hundred perfect fighters, were eight individuals above them all. They were the most elite of the elite, the strongest, the smartest, the quickest, and the deadliest fighters of all. They were the Soul Eight, or the S8.

The S8 were formed by Shiba Isshin himself; specially chosen figures that he foreshadowed as his perfect army, and his trump card, and they did not perform anything less in their roles. He had spent millions of Yen to train and form them into his perfect army, and he knew they were his best investment yet.

They were impeccable, fierce and ruthless fighters, with bone made of fire and rock and every naturally dominant entity in existence, and they possessed the most engineered minds, logically _perfect_ thought processes that reflected entirely in the quality of their services. They were singlehandedly one of the most precious things to him, emotionally and physically, as he had saved each and every one of them from their past, torturous lives, including the petite.

Rukia Kuchiki, was a member of the S8.

A proud member.

The violet eyed petite turned her head back, slowly to glance at the group of men laughing hysterically at each other. She felt her mood deflate.

They were an annoying bunch, for sure. Ikkaku Madarame, a bald, slit eyed thug with a constant attitude, Shuhei Hisagi, a boisterous, bold and bluntly flirtatious personality with an obnoxious sixty-nine tattoo on one of his cheeks, Yasutora Sado, an enormous, tan figure with a heavily silent, deep, yet caring voice, Yumichika Ayasegawa, an obnoxiously arrogant and aesthetically refined stylist in the work field, with one lock of plaited hair, and Renji Abarai, a relaxed soul with alarmingly dark red hair and an entire tribe of tattoos situated on his face and body. All five were tall, lean and built, but Sado the most.

Weird? Loud? Bold? Big-headed? Check, check, and check, apart from Sado. And who walked in from the entrance lift as she mindlessly thought about all this crap? The other two.

Rukia turned to the two females coming in, one with a girly catwalk, and the other with a crisp, but casual stride.

Rangiku Matsumoto and Shaoilin Feng, but namely called Soifon. Rangiku, a tall and gorgeously busty model of a women with strength, flirt an dignity, and Soifon, a tall, yet slender narrow eyed female with the essence of a ninja in her work performance and her voice.

Rukia herself didn't have much to say. She was petite, short, but built strong, moulded with creamy pale skin, possed a somewhat prominent curve to her frame, and sported a beautiful set of facial features to match her violet eyes, especially her soft, pink lips. She was often mistaken for the person to be escorted.

And together, with Rukia, they were the S8. Like a big old, happy family.

"So, who's free tonight?"

"Yeah... I think we're all good."

"I have one escort in an hour... but I'm free this evening."

"Yumi... cancel that dumbass gay fashion show you're going to."

"It's a men's fashion show, Ikkaku."

"Still gay."

"You'd think changing your boxers would be gay... dirty ass."

"Shut the hell up! You wanna go?"

"What's wrong with you? Man... lower your voice."

"Who the fuck asked you to get involved Soifon?"

"I asked myself."

"Ugh... you guys. Shut up! Chad can't even write his report up... he hasn't even written another word since we left. Stop distracting him!"

"Your tits are distracting, me, Ran. Put em away."

"Who cares if they're out, Shuhei?"

"Has any criminal actually stopped trying to resist because of you and... your tits?"

"What, Like because they're big?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah.. once actually. Basically what happened-"

"Rangiku, Shuhei... shut up for a second."

And Rukia could feel the tall redhead towering over her and the lounge, less than a metre away. His fingertips massaged the top of her head, and momentarily, Rukia could feel herself falling asleep to the sensation.

 _Great._

"What's up with you now, moody?"

"I'm never moody," she mumbled, moving her head towards his fingers in awe of their relaxing touch.

"You're so quiet... quieter than Chad. Which is technically a record. You're usually saying something... so what's up?"

"Nah... Nothing. I've been thinking though."

And supposedly, the other six had fallen silent after hearing her last sentence, as if they had heard her voice for the first time in interest.

Rukia let one pale hand prop her up from the lounge, grip onto the backrest and thrust her into the air, landing perfectly on the floor behind the seat. She shoved both hands in her pockets and leaned gently against the backrest, facing the other seven.

"Isn't it get a little boring around here?"

Ikkaku kissed his teeth in annoyance.

"That's all you were gonna say?"

"Yeah, but can you disagree?"

"It's pretty obvious it's getting boring around here. We need like, a fresh face, or someone new in the building to bully."

"Bully?"

"Yeah... or hang out with. Whatever."

Soifon screwed her water bottle cap on and tossed the drink between both her gloves hands.

"Well... you know, I did hear something yesterday morning. Something from Shin's meeting room," she commented in a sly and cunning tone.

"What?" Shuhei, Chad, and Renji echoed together.

"Well... Shin's wanting to bring his son into the S.S. Apparently the kid wanted to work here for a while, something about work experience? I don't know... but he's got his kid coming here, for sure-"

"HE HAS A SON?!"

"I didn't even know he was married?"

"Wait wait... why hasn't he told us he has a son?"

"He has two daughters, too."

"DAUGHTERS?!"

"Hey... Shuhei. Shut up. We all know he has daughters, he told us once in a meeting but no one was listening."

"Damn..."

"Wait... how old is his son? Oh my god... what if he's good looking? Can you imagine me becoming Shin's Daughter in law-"

"So what?"

The other seven stopped talking and looked back at Rukia, who shrugged her shoulders.

"What did you say?"

"I said 'So what.' But for real... what's the big deal? He's got a son... so he's got a son. What's so amazing about that?"

Rukia didn't see where all their fuss was coming from. Sure, if this kid would supposedly come in and ask his daddy to change things in the company, or if he came in and kicked out one of the S8 by asking Isshin, then it'd be a fuss. Or positively, even, if he were a magician, or a sports car dealer, or some kind of fun guy that could come in and crack jokes tailored to all their individual senses of humour. Then it would be worth the interest. But they had no way of knowing... so who the hell was this kid?

"I can imagine it being some snotty, bony teenager who gets boners looking at people on the street or some weird shit like that..." Rukia scoffed, walking over to Yumichika and running three fingers through his freakishly, perfectly straight hair.

"Well... why don't you make it interesting, Ru? This could be entertaining... you never know... I heard somewhere that this kid is famous. Like, world renown famous... so he could be literally anyone. Go have some fun. You guys could be friends, you still never know."

"There are better things to do, Soifon."

"And that's exactly why you don't have fun, Ru. You don't put time into things."

"Why should I? What's the point?"

"You'll never find the point unless you try."

"I'm not fucking sixteen. I'm twenty. There's no way I'm making friends with some high school kid, just cause' he's his son."

Soifon rolled her eyes and snorted under breath, as if she knew something Rukia didn't.

"Well, whatever. We're all drinking tonight, right? Palm Club?"

"You mean porn club, Ren?"

"Palm club. Shut up, Shu."

"Hell yeah. I've been waiting for so fucking Long to drink... we're never allowed cause of work, anyway."

"I'm not going to drink."

"Of course you aren't Chad, but at least have some of the girly stuff like rosé or champagne with Yumi. I'll buy."

"Thanks, Ikkaku."

"Yo. Ru... you're coming, right?"

Rukia cracked her knuckles near Renji's ears, to purposefully irritate him.

"Sure," she smirked.

Little did she know, that Isshin's Son would do more than just liven things up at the S.S. But she would have to find out after tonight's round of bitter alcohol and illuminated atmosphere at the Palm.

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 **It's a start! I really do hope you enjoy this as much as I am writing it... I would GREATLY appreciate any reviews or reads!**

 **Blake-San. Xxx**


	2. Chapter Two

Rukia glanced down at the reading on her wristwatch, interpreting the time as too late, as she had been asked by Rangiku to wait for her so they could get to the Palm Club together. She spent a few minutes admiring the glinting frame of the clock, examining the handcrafted diamonds studded around each number display. She'd recently bought it as a present for herself; a white, custom made Rolex covered entirely in diamonds. The thing sparkled at any opportunity when she wore it, and funny enough, she'd seen Renji gawk at it a couple of times, mentioning that he wanted to get exactly the same one.

The petite had been standing outside Rangiku's apartment complex for quite nearly an hour now. The time read ten thirty, only an hour and a half away from midnight. In the heated summer of July, Rukia tried not to let the humidity and overwhelming temperature get to her, though tonight seemed distinctively cooler and more bearable. God knew what was going on up in there, and every time Rukia called the busty blonde, she'd receive a repeated, chirpy tone yelling 'I'm down! I'm down! Right now!'

Yeah right... she's probably trying to stuff her tits into a size four dress, the female mumbled, viewing the wristwatch at different angles.

Nonetheless, Rukia loved Rangiku. She had always viewed her as the clumsier, but happier and cooler older sister. Rangiku seemed to get along with everyone and anyone within the first five minutes of meeting them, despite her intimidating position as one of the S8, to which most of the other S.S employees from other departments didn't feel worthy enough to approach her in the first place. She had perfect manners when needed, great conversation lines, and her looks pretty much fitted her fashionable persona altogether. With large, firm breasts and perfectly plump lips, a slender figure overall and layers of long, golden flowing hair, Rangiku quite blatently turned heads anywhere she went.

But she was damn smart. She interpreted information and processed and formulated it into the perfect set of actions in an immaculate, fast period of time, refused to ever overlook anything during an assigned task, and read movements in physical combat like a fighting goddess. In Rukia's eyes, she had the entire package.

During the early days of S8 Training, Rukia refused to give into Rangiku's contagious warmth, but over time she'd realised she didn't care and now wanted her attention and advice when possible. She'd made her stupid assumptions in terms of the blonde's looks in the past, but she also knew what they said about assuming.

And after another 10 minutes of staring out into the street lamp-illuminated road junction, Rue's phone lit up. She could only here the screaming of 'I'm done!' down the phone before the other side declined, and exactly thirty seconds later, Rangiku, covered by a simple, white jersey dress tumbled out of the entrance's revolving doors.

Heaving in, the blonde pulled a cheesy grin.

"Done!"

Rukia felt as if she were going to rip an eyeball out if she heard the word 'done' leave Rangiku's mouth another time. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, wondering exactly why the fuck It took the blonde an entire hour to put on the most comfortable of clothing.

"You look great, Ran."

"Really? I was planning to wear something else, the sparkly white top I bought the other day. Remember? The one at Prada? But I couldn't find it anywhere!"

"Man... I wonder where it went."

"Oh god... Ru. You're being sarcastic again. What's made you grumpy now?"

Rukia snorted and pulled a similar cheesy face. I'm always sarcastic, Ran.

"Nah... Nothing. We just need to get to the club and start drinking. I might have to smoke a bit later... I don't think I'll make it through the night with drunk Ikkaku and Shuhei at our table."

"We could just ditch them afterwards... and did you say smoke?! When did you smoke? We're not allowed to smoke. S8 Code of conduct, remember?"

"Not a cigarette... god no. Weed."

"There you go again... alright. I'm going to see if I can pull any cute guys tonight. Apparently it's busier than Tokyo rush hour on a Saturday night at the Palm."

"I'll be your wing, if you need it. And it's alright... we've got half the rooftop lounge."

Exchanging a conversation of mindless talk, the two climbed into Rangiku's Pink convertible and drove off.

Rangiku was right. Rukia couldn't believe how many people there were tonight at the Palm. There had to be at least three hundred on the first floor alone... thank god they'd rented half of the rooftop all for only the eight of them. Squirming her way through the crowds, which was easily done due to her height, the petite linked hands with the blonde and guided her through the already packed dance floor. Lights were dimmed and neon LEDs illuminated the floors, emitted off the borders of the walls and the shelving at the bar. Popular artists were blaring off the speakers and women in skimpy outfits were flirting mindlessly with young men fallen prey to their appearances. Climbing up the stairway and exploding into the lift, the blonde groaned. The petite, crouching down with a hand to her forehead also heaved out in relief.

"Oh god... it's so packed in here."

"I didn't know it was that bad... we should've just cancelled."

"Ikkaku would've killed us, though, Ru."

"I'd kill him first."

And upon exiting the designated floor, the two females stopped in their tracks, viewing the rooftop scene before them.

The lounge looked amazing. One corner of the entire rooftop, where they both stood, was built sheltered by another roof piece over it, like a shelter, and to their right, and entire three-sixty interactive, illuminated bar occupied sixteen seats. A couple of metres away, Rukia could view an enormous, wide swimming pool, bubbling in each and every side. A bowling alley had been integrated into the sheltered side of the rooftop, along with a series of Lounge sofas positioned around a seventy inch flat screen television. Small, glass fountains were placed in occasional areas of the interior, and led to the fencing where the Tokyo's entire, lighted cityscape could be viewed.

The familiar, tattooed redhead soon approached The two, striding over with two bottles of sake in his hand. He was wearing a plain, black tee, and a chain around his neck, and his fiery long locks were let down over his shoulders. Dare she say it, Rukia always thought he looked good when his hair was down. But she wouldn't ever dare tell him that directly; he'd only arrogantly mention to her and she wouldn't hear the end of it.

Thrusting a bottle into both Rukia and Rangiku's hand, Renji raised his eyebrows.

"This is round one. We're being traditional and stuff and started with the sake."

"How many rounds tonight?"

"Five again."

"What the fuck, Renji? Do you wanna die?! What happened the last time we had five rounds? Yumi nearly got killed by a car, ikkaku passed out in the club kitchen, Chad fell asleep on the floor, Soifon almost killed a bunch of boys in a fight, Ran gave these random boys titjobs, you threw up everywhere, and Shuhei had a fucking threesome in front of me!"

"We're under control this time... I think. There's no one else to have a threesome with or give titjobs to or kill or any of that."

"I'm done after round three. You can do whatever the fuck you want."

Renji simply rolled his eyes, and Rukia knew for sure he was cursing her out in his head. She ignored his later remarks and approached the bar area, followed by the busty blonde who couldn't stop squealing over the fact that they had the entire rooftop to themselves. In the corner, she eyed Soifon, who had her long, usually cloth tied black hair swept into a plaited high bun, and her signature fringe framing the start of her narrowed, dark eyes, and her firm frame wrapped in a black, tight jumpsuit. She decided to ignore Ikkaku drinking loveshots with Yumichika from the corner of her gaze, as if the stupid baldy didn't call the fashionably advanced male gay a couple hours back at the S.S headquarters. Comfortably laying her eyes over Soifon, Rukia raised an eyebrow.

"I really like your hair like this," the petite started, allowing for her right hand to approach the ends of the oppositely sat female. Though Soifon was quick to respond, and smacked Rukia's hand away like it were some sort of buzzing wasp near her ear.

"Don't touch it, idiot."

"Gee, you're welcome for the compliment."

"Shut up... I just needed to change up the look a bit. It's not professional to look professional all the time... you know?"

"Hey... at least accept the comment. I'm serious. You look really good. Did shuhei hit on you yet?"

"I'd make sangria out of his blood and deep fry his balls if he did. Seriously... he's the biggest man slut out there."

Rukia couldn't help but stare in admiration towards the petite, but taller female. Soifon was undoubtedly drop dead gorgeous, but in the most traditional and distinct way. Slender figure, glowing tan skin, perfectly straight hair, and ten times less socially interactive than Rangiku, but safe, and great company when she tried. Soifon, to Rukia's opinion, was the sharpest and the most normal out of the odd eight, along with herself to an extent, but still nonetheless a very interesting person to her. She had answers to almost all of Rukia's questions, whether they were mindless or serious. She worked with sole focus and intent to perform perfectly, and in the late nights, she'd emit some sort of relaxing aura when hung around. Rukia loved people like that. They'd clicked from the day they'd met, having occasional arguments but working together in perfect sync while on duty, and were able to sit in silence for hours together.

Rukia pulled a face, then took two, equally large swigs of sake from the green tinted glass bottle.

"So, Why were you emphasising so much over Boss's son so much today?"

"What're you talking about? I just told you to have a little fun?"

"But why did you need to mention that? You've made the assumption that he's my age, and he's my type, and you don't know that. Or do you?"

Soifon snorted.

"To some extent... he's in town today, anyway. You might see him anywhere tomorrow. Or the day after. Or the day after. You're always complaining about being bored, and wanting to do something other than work and train... so why not hang out with him?"

"Again. What makes you think I wanna hang out with him?"

"I'll tell you one thing. He's a fucking piece of work to put up with."

Rukia hesitated. There she went again... Soifon and her indirect commentary. At this point, Rukia concluded that either Soifon had immaculate interpretation and conversation eavesdropping skills, or actually knew this guy personally. The former seemed more likely.

"I heard a lot of stuff that day... he seems like just the type of thing you need."

"Then why don't you try him out? If you know so much..."

"My fuse is a hundred times shorter than yours. I'd kill him before he opened his mouth if he tried anything smartass with me. Plus, I don't make friends with younger guys."

"You're only twenty-five. You're acting like he's sixteen."

Soifon stood to her feet, smoothing out the folded edges of the black fabric covering her thighs. "Alright... just shut up and leave me alone to drink. I'm gonna have to set those idiots straight afterwards," she muttered, before walking off to the glass fencing with her second bottle of sake.

Rukia shrugged, settling herself into the barstool. Swirling the alcoholic liquid around inside the green tinted bottle, she pondered over her next few tasks and reports due to complete for the next week. There wasn't much on her schedule, at this point; she'd been requested by the priminister's secretary to escort the man himself downtown to the Okinawa Prefecture for some sort of meeting, leading herself and ten other security guards to the escort of a Japanese boy band in their venue, and then writing up a couple of reports based on a few cases that were recently brought up and worked over in the last two weeks. They weren't easy tasks, but sooner or later she knew she'd be bored again-

"Guess who?!"

Rukia almost choked on her own breath, alarmingly responding to two abnormally warm hands pressed over her eyelids. Her speculative thoughts disappeared in that instant.

"Get off."

"Get off, who?"

"Shuhei. Get off."

"How'd you know?"

"Are you that dumb? You're the only one with boiling water hands in this group."

"What about my voice."

"That too."

"Then you're the dumb one."

"Okay. I'm the dumb one."

And Shuhei knew when to stop. He wrinkled his nose at her supposed mood swing and fell onto the barstool next to her, sipping on a white bottle of vodka as if it weren't his second one. God... Rukia was just so bored with her life that she couldn't believe she cut everyone off. These were the people she'd known for years, Shuhei and Renji since they were kids, but days just kept getting duller and duller in her eyes. Eventually, she pulled some sort of effort together and turned to face him, observing the identical bored look on his face.

"Shuhei. I'm just sick and tired of doing the same thing everyday," she groaned out, emptying the last few drops of Sake and rolling the bottle across the marble bar surface.

"I'm sick and tired... we're getting hard, challenging missions and tasks every three months now, at least. Shin doesn't send us off to fight and catch random Yakuza, or arrest illegal traders and malicious service providers, block terminals and pages on the deep web, all the dangerous, fun stuff anymore. We're just doing escorts. What's the point in all the inhumane training we've been doing for the past five years or so? I'm just so bored."

The black haired male simply closed his eyes and propped his head up with his hand and elbow. He hummed for a while until he stopped.

"Well... you're right. It is getting boring round here... but maybe you don't need the thrill from work. Maybe you need to be challenged in the head, by something, a new hobby. Or someone. Every considered getting a boyfriend?"

Rukia could feel her nostrils flaring in disgust. She never even thought about men in that way. She wasn't a lesbian, just very hard to appeal to.

"No."

"I think you need a boyfriend. You're too rough and manly... you need to loosen up. Are you up for a blind date?"

"Shut up."

"Hey. I actually know quite a lot of guys, and they're all decent people. Rich, good looking."

"I don't care about that kind of stuff. And you hang out with man whores. Because you're a man whore."

"I prefer the term 'stud.'"

"I prefer to knock you out."

Shuhei let out a quiet laugh. He picks his bottle up to leave, but stopped when he felt a tug on his shirt. Rukia looked up at him, unfazed.

"Shuhei... do you know who Shin's son is?"

"Huh?"

"Shin's son. You know, the guy who's coming in."

"Oh... Nah. Nothing."

"You sure? Soifon knows too much for her liking."

"Yeah, well I have no idea. I wanna meet this guy too. Can you imagine if he was our age, and he liked to drink too?"

"Mm. Okay. You can leave."

Three hours later, Rukia wasn't surprised to see the scene in front of her.

Ikkaku, Renji and Yumichika had knocked out on the lounge, Chad too, most probably because of their influence for him to drink, Rangiku and Shuhei were nowhere to be seen, and Soifon hadn't moved a single inch from her position near the glass fence. She'd probably explode in anger if she turned back to see the massacre behind her.

Rukia rolled her eyes, also slightly affected by her own dosage of alcohol. She could still make out what was going on around her, but she could herself growing more and more paranoid by everything and anything by the minute. Reaching for the pocket of her leather jacket, she spent a minute or two patting each zipper, until she fell into realisation of what had happened.

"Shit... where is it?" She muttered. She'd sworn she brought the weed with her, and the rolling papers, but they were nowhere to be felt in the jacket's little pockets. This had to happen of all times... when she needed it the most. Who the fuck was going to go all the way downstairs to the car to check if it were there, which was highly unlikely in the first place?

It wasn't easy to buy the stuff. Marijuana was strictly illegal in the S.S, but Isshin was aware of Rukia's psychological need for it, and did buy her the stock she needed in occasions. It wasn't like she could go and ask somebody in a convenience store for a casual couple of grams in exchange for a couple hundreds of dollars. What was she going to do?

Fuck it, the petite muttered one last time, before leaving for the lift.

Eventually exiting the lift door to the main lounge on the ground floor, Rukia forced her way through the slightly quietened, but nonetheless packed crowd, and into the lobby. Her vision was blurred, and her hands were shaking, and by then, she'd understood that she'd drunk at least two litres of alcohol more than her four litre limit.

 _Now that I think about it... I might need to get to know this guy... Anything to stop this cycle I've been living for the past years._

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 **I'm still getting used to the hang of writing. I haven't written for so long... so the next couple of chapters including this one might reflect that! Sorry about it! Also Ichigo will be arriving soon in either the next chapter or the chapter after, so don't be too disappointed! When he does come, you'll love it I think!**

 **I'm SO SO SO grateful for the couple of reviews left on the first chapter and am definitely motivated to keep going with the story. At this point, it's a bundle of ideas in my head but I'll sort things out and make them more clear in the story! Thank you SO MUCH AGAIN!**

 **Blake-San Xx**


	3. Chapter Three

_**Something I wanted to mention earlier but forgot to. My favourite character in the bleach series is Rukia, and so I intend to make my story detailed as possible around her point of view. I will also do the same around ichigo's point of view, but I hope that you'll see to the end of it and wait patiently for his POV to arrive in chapter five. Ichigo IS badass in this story, and he IS handsome, and ichigo and rukia WILL interact more romantically, but rukia will need time to notice all of these things properly. So enjoy this chapter, and the subtle references I've made to the original bleach story.**_

 _ **If you don't like rukia at all, I really don't recommend you read this story because I pretty much love glorifying her lmao. Ichigo will also be glorified, and I love doing that too!**_

 _ **Thanks!**_

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Sunday morning, and Rukia once again dragged herself to work.

Yes. She worked on a Sunday. To be more precise, all of the S8 worked on a Sunday. Which was quite convenient for them, seeing as Chad had a strong family tradition of spending time at the church on Sunday specifically, and Ikkaku, not so much. But along with Isshin, they came to an agreement of their work hours and worked hard for each of their chosen four hour time periods.

Rukia stared at the time on the screen of her phone. Five past ten, in the morning; perfect. She would simply enter the top floor field room, where the S8 were situated in, sit at her desk, write two reports, have a break in between, maybe eat at the S.S cafeteria for lunch at twelve, and take the last hour to process through her immensely bored self, perhaps search up a new hobby to try out.

Or maybe call Shuhei? Set a blind date? No... Rukia wouldn't steep that low. Besides, what did men have to offer anyway to satisfy her? Sex and probably hugs for when she got upset, where the latter would least likely be needed as Rukia didn't seem to feel anything most of the time, apart from in a friendship.

Opening up report and typing away, Rukia worked quickly. She was proud of herself; she was known for her crisp work attitude, settling for no less than perfection in the documents she wrote and submitted to the other departments, the hospitality and protection she would provide for clients of the S.S during an escort, and the elite ability to hack through almost all software when appropriate for global measures against services in the deep web. She was untouchable in her combat, to top off everything. Precise hand eye coordination, fluid motion and the strong intention to remain content and humble through the five fighting art types she'd mastered in all situations regarding physical restriction. She hadn't spent all those years training underground in the iciest of caves, the hottest destinations and the most toxic of atmospheres for no reason. Endless weightlifting and exercising, running and lethal drills additionally were all included in her training to increase her tolerance. And god, did she have an extremely high tolerance.

It could be anything. Tolerance in alcohol, pain, emotion, anger, opposition, inequality, and all the other intangible, negative pronouns that existed. She tolerated them all, and she knew it.

Rukia was _filthy_ rich, with a net worth of thirty billion U.S dollars and an almost infinite salary, excluding her wealth gained from family. But she would never let something as materialistic as wealth tamper with her decisions, emotions, and her lifestyle.

Charity and humility were part of her being.

She lived with dignity, profound modesty, and donated ninety percent of her salary to three hundred charities worldwide, the other ten percent paying for her own expenses. She felt empowered from charity and knowledge, and would only respect those who thought and lived in the same way as her. She owned only two possessions worth a significant amount; her watch, and her car. And that was that. The clothes on her back were no more than the clothes accessible to everyone, and the shoes on her feet were good enough for walking, and she would eye all her minimal possessions with pure gratitude.

So she worked; she worked with little to no interest in herself and complete dedication to her report, typing away and engineering her observations into words as she did so.

Three hours later, she had finished. It wasn't easy; S.S reports were needed to be entirely relevant and focused over their respected crime cases, and contained only the most intricate of detail. Pushing the enter button on the keyboard, her reports were submitted and her duties for the day completed.

Scanning the interior of the enormous top floor office, she sighed. None of the other members were here today. They'd all arranged specific work hours with Isshin, so they were to arrive hours between each other. Rukia didn't know exactly why she wanted the early hours, but knew that she preferred to stay unoccupied and ponder in the evenings.

Approaching a cutoff of a mirrored wall near the lift entrance, she viewed her reflection.

She was five foot; petite, but curvy. Her waist did cinch at the centre, and her breasts were firm and moderately sized to her torso, and her thighs and behind were toned and perky, prior to the ridiculous five year training programme. Her lips were pink and stained at the centre, her eyelashes thick and naturally curled at the ends, and her large, violet hues intensively viewing herself. Underneath her left eye, a small initial and number, reading R43, tattooed at the start of her cheek for a reason she didn't want to bring into her head right now. Her hair, long and thick and reaching the start of her behind, and only recently grown, was swept into the simple and careless bun she wore regularly, and her rough black combat trousers tucked into her boots comfortably concealed her leg shape. Her short sleeved, black collared shirt revealed only the creamy skin of her elbows down to her hands, which were shoved in her pockets. She was grateful for the way she looked, and admired her own appearance with an appropriate level of confidence. Just blessed with genetics and health, she assumed and knew her whole life.

She didn't mind that she didn't look feminine enough at work, because do her uniform and tied up hair, and the unruly, intimating set of keys, razors and firearm strapped around her trousers waist. She didn't care about what people thought anyway, as long as they weren't her work superiors or the people she knew. She also cared about her stomach, which bubbled uncomfortably in emptiness.

Taking the lift to the cafeteria on the ground floor, Rukia exited and viewed the interior of the hall.

There were still a significant number of people in today; not because Isshin had forced them to turn up, in fact, he encouraged them to stay at home, but to finish up some of their own quota for the week. Rukia did know the odd person here and there, but didn't feel it essential to force a conversation with other S.S employees during lunch. She didn't ask herself why she'd come to the cafeteria for lunch; usually, she'd make a sandwich or something up in the top floor office and settle with that. Perhaps she just wanted a change of scenery?

 _Probably. Life's dryer than ever right now._

She eyed all the options available today; an enormous self serve sushi cart, noodle bar, salad bar, vegetarian lasagna and quiche and weird looking pizza and squash pasta and eventually settled for rice and omelette bowl. Traditional, but reliable. She remembered once when she and Isshin were having one of their daily chats, and he mentioned one of his daughters, Yuzu, being an amazing cook. Probably why he invested so much on the quality of the food here. She'd even heard a rumour about Yuzu designing some of the meals they served here. And Rukia was beyond impressed by every dish.

Seating herself at a table located up against the illuminated, industrial, yet warm, brown wall, the petite dug her spoon into her rice and scoffed down two bites. She chewed intently in silence, and a minute later, glanced towards a group of men approaching her.

The first one, she recognised. His name was Keigo Asano, tall, brown hair, and an oddly charming and funny face. He worked as a lawyer in the legal department. Rukia was acquainted with him, but they weren't so entirely close, just shared the casual regard every so often, and on occasion she'd hear his weird rants. Maybe they did have some sort of odd friendship. The second and third, she couldn't identify, so she assumed they were his friends.

"Rukia! Can we sit here?" The brown haired male asked, standing in front of the table. Judging by his facial expression, he wouldn't have taken no for an answer, so she just nodded before returning to eat her rice. Though, she did find her thoughts distracted slightly as the three talked loudly beside her.

She noticed that one of the guys had soft black hair and warm eyes, while the other was paler, had much straighter black hair and wore spectacles. She swore she saw the glasses guy from somewhere, but assumed it was just a blurry misconception and continued to eat. The two men also wore different uniforms, not that of the black S.S uniform, black shirt and trousers that Keigo wore. They were grey uniforms, and they also wore white coats. Maybe they worked at a hospital? Probably.

Keigo murmured over his half eaten cutlet.

"Guys, seeing as you're having lunch here, you might as well say hi to Rukia. She's one of the highest ranked employees here. She's a _Soul Eight_ Security guard in the _field_ department!" He chirped happily, forming another bite of cutlet an rice together before shoving it into his mouth.

Rukia sighed in response to his glorification of her. She appreciated the introduction but knew Keigo had a tendency to over exaggerate everything. These guys probably didn't even care. Even though one was smiling and the other was emotionless, they both looked look like they had far more important things to do.

But to Rukia's surprise, the man with glasses sighed.

"Keigo...we know who she is. That's why we came to sit near her. And you can tell she didn't like the way you just talked about her then," he spoke out with a firm, but gentle voice. He turned over to her, bowed slightly, and their pupils met.

"The name is Uryu Ishida. I work at Ken hospital headquarters. It's a pleasure to actually meet you in person, Miss Kuchiki."

The warmer faced male also turned and bowed slightly in his seated position. "And I'm Mizuiro. I also work at Ken hospital. We just came here for lunch, because Keigo told us he didn't like eating alone every lunchtime and wanted some company," he commented with an eerily Sweet smile on his face. Rukia couldn't help but exert a tiny snort at Keigo's reaction, but was surprised at how polite the two other men were.

"Mizuiro... shut up! Why would you say something like that in front of the only person I actually talk to at this place!"

"Well, I just wanted to say the truth. That's all."

"It's not the truth. It's unnecessary!"

Rukia's ears perked slightly.

"Why didn't you just ask me to eat lunch with you? All I do is sit there and make sandwiches upstairs, anyway," she commented, trying to surpass the natural smirk in her forming smile. It wasn't such a thoughtless idea to eat lunch at the cafeteria after all.

Uryu poured himself a glass of sparkling water, then took a moderate sip before picking his knife and fork back again. "Anyway... You're not only known for your position here, Miss Kuchiki," he continued with his recurring firm, but gentle voice.

"Yeah... I know. That's _also_ the reason why I prefer being called Rukia," she replied, resting her head on her palm and elbow.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Alright, Rukia."

"Better. It's nice to meet the both of you, too. I really do appreciate the help our team get from Ken Hospital staff during casualties. Great work."

"It's an honour to be of help. And.. well... you're known very much for your work, and even more so by Byakuya Kuchiki."

Rukia's eyes deflated at that name. Ah, Byakuya Kuchiki... one of the two richest men in the entire Asian Subcontinent, along with Isshin Shiba. Owner of Seikan Corporation, the largest electronic company in the world. From Luxury Cars to Televisions, Sound systems to aeroplanes and private jets, boats to storage and design software, lasers to every Weapon in existence in the Japanese military and police, he had created and owned it all. He was as tall as six foot four Isshin Shiba, though younger, and had inherited his family's Oil reserves everywhere in the Middle East, in addition to forming his own company. He was pale, slender, had lethally frozen grey eyes and did not have a single hair out of place. He talked in an engineered fashion, walked and ate in an engineered fashion, and wouldn't move a single cell in response to anything, be it heartwarming or devastating. He had taken Rukia into his care when she was ten, and had since paid for her education and wellbeing, fulfilling his dying wife Hisana's wish for him to look after her younger sister. Though he did provide for her, they met once a year. No phone calls, no texts, just an average dinner where he would ask her the same three questions, how work was going, if she had a lover, and what she had learned in the past year between their supposed 'reunions.' Usually, he'd escalate some sort of monotoned lecture after her response to the third.

"Not something I worked to hear... but it can't be helped," Rukia murmured slightly, narrowing her sight. She, for some reason had grown distracted from their conversation, eyeing some person in the distant end of the hall where all the food was presented.

Initially, the petite looked at the man with complete confusion in her head. He was strangely tall, like isshin and Byakuya, but looked younger in the face, well at least from the distance between them. He wore a long, dark grey coat and a white shirt underneath, significantly tightened in the button regions, suggesting he was ripped underneath, identically dark grey trousers which his shirt was tucked into, and a plain, grey tie. He looked coordinated, overall, and definitely easy on the eye, but to Rukia's utter surprise, her violet hues finally rolled up to his head.

His hair was orange. Fucking orange. Well, not orange, more of a dark, blended sort of brown and ginger, but definitely orange under the powerful white cafeteria chandeliers. It was spiky and short but it rimmed his eyebrows and eyes slightly, and fell back nearly when he then pushed it back with one hand. He looked somewhat tan in the face, too. He looked odd, overall to an extent, but it just led rukia to wonder, where were all these weird people coming from?

She didn't realise that he was actually coming over, and his height became increasingly intimidating to her eye as he eventually sat down next to Keigo on the edge of the table. He spoke out almost immediately, in a deep tone, as if he were already involved in the conversation, drinking a glass of white wine.

"Keigo... there's pizza over there, and you chose to eat a fucking cutlet."

"Stop cursing, Ichigo! There's a lady here."

"Where...? Oh."

And slowly, Rukia chewed, watching as the orange haired male's head tilted up. He stared at her for two seconds, then looked back down at his wine glass. He didn't look even the slightest bit amused, or interested in her, and for some reason, that irritated Rukia.

Finally, he spoke out again, while Uryu, Mizuiro, and Keigo continued eating, but didn't even try to look at her.

"You were at the Palm Club yesterday, right?"

Rukia paused.

"Huh?"

"You heard me. The four of us were there too. You dropped your weed and rolling papers near the ground floor bar, by the way."

Rukia had forgotten to breath for five seconds or so, as he spoke, and spluttered into the back of her hand out of shock.

 _What the fuck?_

"What do you mean?" She croaked out in a sore throat.

"Are you deaf? Exactly what I said. You dropped your weed and rolling papers on the hallway."

Rukia closed her mouth and chewed to make sure she didn't choke again, remaining silent. Keigo wrinkled his nose in surprise. Uryu adjusted his glass frame, while Mizuiro stopped eating and blinked in slight surprise.

"What?! Rukia?! You smoke weed? Isn't that banned here?"

"Rukia... I didn't expect you to smoke marijuana. Byakuya Kuchiki's sister does drugs? That doesn't sound right."

"You really don't look like the type to do that, Rukia."

Rukia could strangely feel her blood heating up. She didn't understand why, and she definitely wasn't familiar with the feeling. She'd just made friends with these two new men properly, only to be judged and commented on two minutes later under the remark of a tall, orange haired man, which she also happened to want to punch at this very instant. She'd never seen him in his life, yet here he was, charging in and belittling her as if she were an animal that just behaved badly or something. And worst of all, for some reason, Rukia couldn't seem to avoid to staring it him for more than a couple seconds or so. She had to look at him long enough to be able to observe the burning, cold amber irises hidden by his spiky orange locks. In that instant, Rukia wanted to cry of embarrassment, scream of irritation, shoot her arms and legs out an beat the total shit out of this circus freak, wherever the hell his disgustingly coloured mandarin hair and evil glance came from. Why she didn't reply or let out a single world to show her frustration, she didn't know. His presence seemed to stop that altogether.

 _What the fuck?_

Finally, the orange hair spoke out again.

"Yeah... she smokes weed. She looks like a smoker to me."

"Why didn't you return it to me?"

"Who do you think you are... the Queen? I smoked it, by the way."

 _This orange haired freak smoked her marijuana?_

Rukia , gritting her teeth harder than ever now in order to surpass the instinct to _rip_ this guy's eyeballs out of his sockets, found herself closing her eyes, trying to wipe the image of his abnormal... but so interesting, ripped image in his head. She wondered, for a hundredth of a second, what could be underneath it, and what could possibly be below the buttons... in his trousers-

 _Rukia. Compose yourself. What the fuck are you thinking right now? This pile of ginger shit just stole and smoked your weed! Set him straight!_

But she wouldn't. She couldn't, and it haunted her as to why she wouldn't. Did she feel shy? No... Rukia Kuchiki wasn't shy towards anyone. She even spoke in a straight, firm tone with her brother. Being shy would involve effort, and Rukia would have never given effort to a scumbag bully like this ginger shit. She was so much better than that... _wasn't_ she?

 _Why do I have to reassure myself with him? Why am I asking myself so many questions? Who is this rude freak?!_

"Why would you smoke somebody _else's_ weed?" She finally responded, but in a significantly deeper and angrier voice. She wasn't known for her temper... but boy, she could get angry.

And again, this ginger shit decided not to look back at her, as if he were the most untouchable, superior human being on this planet, refusing to talk to anybody below him. Ah, Ginger shit would also be his newly found name in her head. What would've put him up there in the first place? She'd never seen his face on TV or known anyone famous to go by the name of 'Ichigo' anyway. She involuntarily seemed to look over at him, to which, she saw him put his wine glass down and stared at his hands.

They actually looked... good. They were slender, long fingers, tan, his nails neatly groomed, and three words or pictures tattooed on the side of his middle finger, though she couldn't make them out. His knuckles stuck out underneath the dark, supposedly rough but smooth skin altogether. They looked soft, to a sense, and touchable, holdable... gripable. He wore one, thin, silver banded ring on his pinky, but even his pinky seemed large enough to slide in between somebody's legs and move-

 _Rukia. You're insane._

Amidst her thorough observations of yet another aspect of his profoundly but unusually evil god-like appearance, he opened his mouth again, and that ruined everything.

"You know how hard it is to get weed around here? I should report you to the CEO of this place. What's his name... Isshin Shiba or whatever."

"You didn't answer my question. _Why_. Did you smoke my weed?" Was

"I thought you were smart. I said it was hard to get weed around her. So obviously, if it's hard to get, I'm gonna smoke some that somebody happened to lose."

"But that's straight up _stealing_."

"And _you're_ straight up annoying. Nice weed, but the way, but try to find a higher grade next time before I see you again. I didn't get nearly as high as I _wanted_."

Rukia couldn't _believe_ the arrogance in this man's tone. She couldn't _possibly_ understand where it came from, and most of all, she couldn't understand why he internal body temperature had increased by what seemed like a hundred degrees in response to a single person this much. She wanted to stand up on the table, snatch his wine glass off and choke him by forcing the end down his throat. But she needed to compose herself. She wouldn't let all the pain and work in her life lead to being... _fazed_ , by this ginger _shitbag_.

"Will do," and that was all she could say at that moment. If she even tried to say something more violent or rude, she knew she would only get exponentially angrier and try to kill him there and then. She stood to her feet, clutching her bowl with a strength that ensure it wouldn't fall, but also wouldn't smash in the grip of her own hand out of pure rage, and walked calmly over to the lady who collected the empty bowls and trays after lunch.

Turning back, she viewed his backside, ignoring Keigo, Uryu, and Mizuiro day on either side of him. She forced a nail into her palm to surpass the intention to bite her lip at what she saw. She wasn't the type of female to gape in awe at a hot, ripped body, but more interested in small aspects and details of their appearance and their being. She noticed that his shoulders were broad, enough to par two of her shoulder spans side by side, and his waist smaller than his chest, breathing tightly underneath his long coat. She could only see the back of his orange mop, but decided not to look further as his hair would only remind her of his arrogant, stupid face.

She found herself walking closer and closer to his back view, and also found her hands were itching of some sort, as If they wanted to shoot out and strangle him by the neck. She couldn't... she just couldn't. Where did the insanely calm, easy-going, relaxed, _unfazed_ Rukia go?

She didn't know, but what she did know, was that something was happening to her. She had stood less than a metre away from him, returning for her keys? Or to strangle him? She didn't know... but she felt an _enormous_ combination of force exerted on her at that moment.

She'd been _pinned_ down.

From all corners of the enormous dining hall, masked officers dressed in black field clothing and armed with identically modelled pistols sprinted over to the brown wall where their table was situation, and immediately _pinned_ Rukia down.

 _Rukia. Kuchiki. Had been pinned down._

Her entire body fell to the ground with unforgivable force, while one end of a pistol roughly sat on her side-facing head. She felt another three pistols grind at the centre of her back, just behind her heart in ribs, and she also felt four feet crush the muscle of each of her legs underneath their jagged, hard soles. Her left check was pressed against the dining hall floor, and her eyes were still, staring _straight_ ahead, still in confusion. She didn't even know what to do.

Supposedly, the ginger shit had turned around out in curiosity of all the noise, only to realise that it had been coming from behind him. She knew at that point, that he really was looking down at her now.

She didn't look at him; she didn't _dare_ to look at him. She'd kill _everyone_ in the dining hall if she did, so she didn't try to look at him. But even without doing so, she felt him raise his eyebrows in slight amusement.

"Huh? What're you doing?"

The main officer released the pistol from Rukia's head, replacing it with the bottom of his shoe. His Shoe was on Rukia Kuchiki's head. Did this ginger shit view her as the lowest of low, to let something like that happen? Who were these officers anyway? Who were they ordered to stay on standby for?

"Boss. Her fingers were raised. She appeared to approach you too fast, so we had to restrain her from coming close," was all the officer said. The force of his foot intensified with every word he spoke in his sentence, and Rukia still couldn't _believe_ that she was allowing for this to happen.

The ginger shit looked down at her, for another five seconds, before turning back to his wine glass.

"Relax. No need to be that harsh."

"Are you sure? Boss, you do know who she is, right? The most dangerous fighter in this establishment-"

"Of course I know who she is. That's why you've got to get off her."

"She is known to be unpredictable... Her history!"

"Her history... yeah. I know a bit. But, she's Byakuya Kuchiki's younger sister. He'd kill all of you _and_ everyone in each of your bloodlines in the middle of the night if he saw this... and I'm not responsible for any of you."

Responsible? He _wasn't_ responsible?! They were _his_ personal security guards! All fifty of them! How monster was this ginger shit exactly? But what haunted Rukia the most was that she felt paralysed to her laying position, for the entire time. She wanted to try to get up, but she didn't. It was as if the ginger shit's aura was so damn dense it increased the fucking gravity acting on her. Did she want this to happen to her? Did she want to be angry at him? And how did he know her history? Was it the general Wikipedia stuff... or the darkest details that only Isshin and Byakuya knew about?

"Let go... come on."

Instantly, the pressure had decreased over her and she was left alone, laying there. _Where_ did all her dignity go?

Keigo, Mizuiro and Uryu, who had stood up to try to get the guards off earlier, now dropped their eating utensils and rushed over to her, where they spent the next minute lifting her up to her feet and returning her fallen taser, firearm and pager. Uryu grunted, irritated at the supposedly still bored ginger shit.

"Ichigo... you're not _normal_. You could've told them to stop before that happened

"Yeah! Exactly what Uryu said! What the hell if wrong with you, man?"

"You could've prevented that. And everyone's fingers raise randomly. What kind of stupid guards are these?"

The ginger shit turned back again, and looked at Rukia with less than one percent more respect.

"Yeah... but I just wanted to see if she really was good at fighting. Why didn't you do anything?"

Rukia stayed silent. She wouldn't even waste another word on this reincarnation of lucifer. She looked down at the floor, where her head was a minute ago, and wiped her cheek, keeping her eyes on the tile below. Byakuya had told her to look at the floor to control emotions, once. It wasn't doing much help, right now though.

And like a coward, she bowed to the three men who had helped her up, said her thanks, and walked off in her combat boots, staring lifelessly toward the exit. She didn't mutter to herself, like she usually would. She wasn't even angry at him anymore. She was just disappointed at how weak she looked right now. In this entire time, she had not noticed the other hundred people or so dining in the same hall, who watched as she left, whispering, gasping, tutting at the ginger shit far behind her.

Back at the table, Uryu stepped on Ichigo's foot.

Keigo smashed the wine glass in his hand on the table, and mizuiro picked up his and Uryu's bags. Uryu glared through his glasses.

"You're so over the top it's actually sickening to watch, Ichigo. She's a woman. She didn't do _anything at all to you._ You even stole something from her! And worst of all... You let somebody step on Rukia Kuchiki's head," Keigo spat before picking his keys up and shoving them into his pocket.

"Ichigo... I don't know why you're doing this, but her brother will kill you. He _is_ stronger, richer, and smarter than you... and where did your morals go?" Uryu marked in an icy tone.

"I don't have any. Mizuiro... stop looking at me like I'm some son of Satan." Ichigo responded to mizuiro's frown.

"Isshin is most definitely not Satan." He snapped back oddly enough, and the three left the orange haired male and his security guards behind him.

"She's... nothing like what I thought," Was all Ichigo could ponder at this moment with a somewhat narcissistic smirk on his face.

Did she just walk away? Just like that? No resistance? No dirty words? No reply, at the very least? He thought he'd see some blood spill... but she just walked away.

What he didn't know, was that Rukia couldn't respond because after such a long time... after years and years of bore and nothing else, Rukia had been _fazed_.

* * *

 **Well, chapter three done! Ichigo's kind of been introduced, and seems pretty evil at this point, but you've got to let him and Rukia develop for a while. All in good time!**

 **I also wanted to say thank you for some of the newer reviews left on this page, to which I'm extremely grateful for. I don't want to disappoint anyone, but I will let the story continue its course as I originally wanted it to be as well. Thank you again!**

 **Blake-San Xx**


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter four! The last chapter of Rukia's POV before we turn to Ichigo! And I'm seriously so happy to read the reviews!**

 **ALRIGHT, DOWN TO BUSINESS. Rukia's gonna go through a bit of Ichi hell today...**

It was a Monday, and Rukia really couldn't believe that she'd dragged herself back to work.

At least Ikkaku, Shuhei and Yumichika would be making some kind of noise. At least Rangiku would be typing and laughing away, and Soifon would be punching targets in the light training end of the office. At least Renji and Chad would be focused on some sort of game they played together, like chess or mah-jong, arguing over who who won the last round.

At least something would be there to distract her from the complete _hell_ she'd gone through yesterday at lunch.

She'd forgotten what she'd done when she came home; she'd probably just stripped her clothes off and climbed into bed at three in the afternoon, as she found herself this morning waking up stark naked. Well... it didn't matter. Fifteen hours of sleep did calm her down, but only by a percent or two. She hoped that she would _never_ have to see that ginger shit ever again. She didn't want to feel shy, embarrassed... hot... flustered... angry...

But didn't she want this? Didn't she want some sort of change to come along and pull her out of her everlasting boredom? She should've been grateful for being given the challenge of putting up with that orange haired by-product of Satan yesterday.

Rukia Kuchiki was _pinned down to the floor by fifty, worthless and inferior officers._

 _Rukia Kuchiki._

The younger sister of _Byakuya Kuchiki,_ one of the _strongest_ fighters in the S8 and the S.S in Entirety. The academic _prodigy_ , the _modest_ and _humble_ princess of _Soul security,_ the charitable and hospitable, compassionate, but firm and cool mysterious girl that people longed to know personally. The Billionare who thought about those below her than those above, and the most requested security guard in the entire Asian subcontinent.

 _Rukia Kuchiki._ Was disrespected.

She decided not to think about it any further, and definitely didn't resume to ask herself why she didn't stand up and resist when his guards pinned her down. Why did he even need guards? As if he were the king of the damn world...

But she had to admit. The darkest, the masochistic fragment in her heart had made her _like_ his attention. They hadn't talked for more than three minutes combined, but he intrigued her. She knew she was messed up for thinking about it, so every time his slender, tan hands and his broad shoulders came up in her head, she'd shake it off and never return to it.

Or try to.

But she was still angry. At least thirty people had approached her and asked her if she was okay from yesterday's event, and she only nodded briefly in calm content, refusing to let the ginger Satan enter her thought process again. She had every right to be angry. She was entirely grateful for the genuine concern from some of the employees that asked her this morning, but altogether, had her pride shattered.

She didn't have much pride. She only held pride for her achievements and at school and physical and fighting abilities, and her tolerance to extreme conditions. She also had pride for the quality of her service. But she didn't have pride for herself, as a person. Her thoughts... memories, and feelings.

 _He_ had destroyed all the remaining pride she had. Kuchiki family members would exert pride from the moment of fertilisation, by blood or not. But he'd taken it all and thrown it on the ground.

Only a few people were watching, and Rukia wasn't so interested or concerned with their opinions and possible rumour sharings, but she did feel hurt on the inside. And that was what mattered to her.

But Rukia Kuchiki wouldn't cry, or bawl, or weep, or isolate herself, or cut off from the world when she was angry.

She was still stubborn as hell.

She would hit things, break things, throw things, curse, and smoke _ridiculous_ amounts of marijuana to clear her dense head. Or look at the floor. Usually, the second option was common. But she knew she'd be all over the first today at work.

Stomping out swiftly from the elevator into the top floor office, Rukia could feel her sight heating up. She knew her irises were flaring, and her nostrils were widened, and her teeth were gritted in complete rage. She saw the usual sight; Ikkaku and Shuhei practice sparring with wooden kendo swords in one corner, Soifon wrapping bandages around her firsts and eyeing the punching bag in the other office corner, Rangiku loading and organising the arms in the firearm cabinet, Yumichika and Renji typing away, with Renji squeezing some sort of rubber stress ball in his hand. Chad wasn't anywhere to be seen though. Maybe he was coming late? Oh, bother. To be frank, she didn't care. She _needed_ to rant to someone.

And what better person to rant to than Renji, her childhood best friend?

Looming over the seated red haired, tattooed male, she lay down a clenched fist on his desk surface.

Renji grunted, then looked up, only to see her with an unusually angry face. Actually, a form of her face showing some form of _emotion_ for once.

"Huh? What's up with you?"

"I need to rant..."

And Renji could feel his grin widening at the sight of her. She looked _furious. Finally_... Rukia Kuchiki looked distracted and annoyed for once. It pissed him off all the time when she had that same, emotionless and uninterested dumb look on her face, as if she was better than everybody else in the whole world. She'd been like that all her life. He turned his seat round completely, then stood to his feet.

"Why the fuck would _you_ need to rant?"

"Renji. _Please._ "

"Okay, okay. Relax... let's talk near the window."

Dropping themselves onto the sofas positioned near the window, Rukia cracked her knuckles irritatedly. Renji just stared at her, still slightly amused that she was angry for once after such a long time, and that an actual _emotion_ had appeared on her face. Rukia closed her eyes and tossed the rubber stress ball she stole from his desk.

"Alright... I went to work early, yesterday morning. Did some stuff, tidied up, then went to the lunch hall."

"Why the lunch hall? You never go there."

"I don't know. I just needed a fucking visual change. Anyway... this guy, Keigo, from the legal department sits on my table. I talk to him sometimes so I was cool with it. Two of his friends, apparently working at the Ken Hospital near this place also sat on the table. We talked and whatever, they're good people. And _then._ "

Renji rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on one of the lounge cushions.

"Get to the fucking point."

"That's what I'm doing, idiot! _Then,_ this guy comes out of nowhere and sits on our table. He's friends with Keigo and the other two, and they start talking. He literally ignores me the _whole_ time, until Keigo pointed out I was sitting with them too. Then this piece of shit looked at me like I was vomit under his shoe, and told me I dropped my weed on the floor at the Palm on Saturday! Just when I fucking got to know those other two nice guys! In front of them! He just sat there and told me I looked like a weed addict, and guess what? He fucking _smoked my weed. The weed he was supposed to fucking return to me."_

"What the hell... does he work here?"

"No. But listen. He had fifty personal security guards with him. _Fifty!_ How fucking famous and wanted do you have to be to have fifty fucking personal guards?! Even Shin walks around unarmed outside... and this is the worst part."

"Yeah, What?"

"I went to put my bowl away, then came back for my keys, and I must've just clenched my fingers or something because I was annoyed. And _all fifty_ of his guards came and pinned me to the floor, stepped on my legs and they _stepped on my motherfucking head. They took me as a threat, because I moved my fucking fingers!"_

Renji, at this point, couldn't quite believe what he was hearing from her. He always thought that the S8 were well respected everywhere they went... he was a member himself, and not even a remote _insult_ was thrown in their direction by _anybody._ So just who the _fuck_ thought it was okay to step on one of their _heads?_

They'd have to be a God, at the very least.

"What the actual hell? Who is this guy?"

"I don't know. But Renji... you don't understand. I was so _embarassed_ and confused with what was going on... I never felt that angry in my entire life. I wasn't familiar with the feeling, I guess. But that piece of _fucking shit._ He literally _shat_ on me. I'm no one famous or special, or important. But why was he so _rude?_ I didn't do anything to him... I just asked him why he didn't give me my weed back... I wanted to kill _everybody in the lunch hall yesterday."_

Renji was still entirely confused with Rukia's state. She looked like she'd explode any minute, break everything in her range of sight, kill anybody that even looked at her. He could clearly see the inflamed blood vessels in the corners of her eyes... and he just couldn't seem to understand _who_ could've made her feel that way.

 _Who_ gave her _that much_ of a challenge.

The only thing he could do, at this moment, was pat her head and tell her to calm down. Rukia was actually only one of the few people who listened when told to calm down, surprisingly. Still dazed, the redhead watched her control her breathing in an attempt to stay calm.

"Look... what we can do, is go check out the security cameras and identify the guy, then go ring him up or get him to come in and owe you an apology. All of us an apology, seeing as you're a main member of the team," he comforted, holding her hands away from her eyes to prevent her from screwing them and irritating them even more.

Rukia shook her head.

"I don't want an apology. I _want_ my pride back!" She whined.

Renji sighed.

 _Stupid, stubborn Rukia. You've always been like this._

And it was true. Since they were at school together and lived together in the streets when they were kids, she had always wanted to do things ina prideful way and stay confident. She argued with shopkeepers, teachers, other staff, bus drivers. She was just pointless to argue with, most of the time, and didn't like to listen to others apart from if they were giving her constructive feedback on her work performance.

But a part of his mind did tell himself that this had happened to her for the better. For her to actually start to react, to listen, and to be _challenged._ Didn't she mention wanting to be challenged?

If she ever saw that guy again, Renji knew things in here would change quickly.

Maybe she needed this.

"Anyway, Shin's son is coming up here in a bit. Forget that guy and relax for the rest of the day. I'll do your work if you want."

"Nah... don't worry about it. I'll get to it in an hour or something."

"Look, just be the better person and forgive and forget if you guys see each other again... if he even says sorry. You're mature, and a good person. And if you're nice, he'll feel crap about doing that to you, and pay you more respect."

"Yeah... you're right. It's just... I'm still so shocked by this. It's such a big change."

"It's the change you wanted."

With that, Rukia could feel Renji's large shadow disappear as he walked back to his desk, ruffling her tied hair one last time. He was right. She would be the better person, and control her anger better, and do something about being stepped on the next time it happened. There wasn't any point dwelling about it.

It wasn't like she'd see this guy again or anything.

Eventually, Rukia got up and tightened the low bun of hair on her head, then approached the board meeting table where the others had now gathered around. She slumped her head against Rangiku's arm, and slapped away Yumichika's hand which probably reached out to fix her slightly messed up collar at this point.

Shuhei glanced at the clock, bringing out his phone. Soifon also looked towards the time, along with Rangiku, until they all reached the same thought.

"Where's Chad?"

He was nowhere to be seen all morning, so maybe he'd not come in today? Sick? Probably that alcohol... but Chad was known for his pretty high alcohol tolerance. Maybe he didn't feel like it, Rukia pondered, still trying to shove the memory of the ginger shit into the deepest corner of her head.

Amidst her internal struggle to forget the orange haired Satan, Isshin had walked in.

He was smart as ever; black suit and tie with the signature, gold and silver _Soul Security_ print on his breast pocket, badges and coloured award stripes on either of his blazer shoulders, circular platinum cuff links, polished shoes, neatly trimmed and shaped scruff, gelled, glossy short black hair, narrow, slit eyes, and his warm, inviting smile.

"Morning. Nice to see you all here and waiting," he called out from the elevator, exiting and approaching the meeting table. The seven guards mumbled a 'good morning' back, except Shuhei, Rangiku and Yumichika chirped a 'Hey Shin!' back instead.

"So, I take it you've all heard my kid's coming in here today..." Isshin started, eyeing Soifon in particular with raised eyebrows, but with warmth altogether and his grin extra wide. Soifon simply rolled her eyes and looked away, knowing she was the one to come and tell them all before he even got the chance to. Isshin chuckled.

"Anyway, he's twenty one, a year older than Ruki. Don't be too shocked, but you see the DIGS software that we use here in more serious, global and continental operations? He made and owns it."

The seven stayed silent, taking the moment to consume the information he'd just given them.

 _Isshin's son made DIGS?_

DIGS, short for Dark Internet Gateway Software, was a highly intelligent programme designed to allow engineering, field and computer forensic departments to access _every single illegal website, illegal forum, broadcast, gallery, online production and trade business in existence in the deep, and dark web._ It was tricky to use, and only the most elite of computer professionals were able to handle the pressure of using and searching for crime with it. The access was allowed by the creator of the software requesting permission from every single site owner, and hence every single criminal in the world for direct visits to their website, without needing to use other links initially to get onto the deep web. It was thought to be impossible, but only somebody _this_ cunning could actually receive the trust from the people running, trading and providing illegal service on the deep web. It would only make sense if they were criminals themselves.

But this owner... this creator of the DIGS software... was _Isshin's Son!_

Immediately, the seven had started to whisper, chat, shout among themselves in surprise and shock.

So this son _had_ to have made the software for an alternative reason. Rukia already had a view suggestions in her head, but she was actually so excited to be able to meet somebody so smart, she she wanted to hear _them_ explain it themselves.

Instantly, however, she remembered Soifon's warnings a couple of days back.

 _"I'll tell you one thing. He's a fucking piece of work to put up with."_

A piece of work? Maybe because he was so smart he couldn't par his level of intelligence with people dumber than him. That was probably why.

Isshin rolled his eyes.

"Alright, shut up all of you. Yes, he's smart to some degree, but he's coming up here for a reason. He'll be working as a temporary member of the S8, doing a couple escorts, helping with some of our global work and go on a couple field operations with you, like the one in Portugal you'll be starting in two weeks time."

"Doesn't that mean we're the S9 now?" Yumichika commented, snorting. Isshin nodded with a slight grin, but then closed his eyes and mumbled out of sudden irritation.

"Oh yeah... I forgot to tell you. Another reason why he's gonna be with all of you, is because I need you to set his behaviour straight. The kid's an absolute hell to deal with, a bully, sometimes, and needs somebody to step on him every once in a while for him to realise how moody and stubborn he is. Give him a hard time, if you can. It'll do me good." He added, massaging his temples with his thumb and middle finger.

"So you want us to scrap with him? No problem... finally, a bit of fun around here." Ikkaku scoffed, smirking.

"Oh, man. I really thought he was going to be a bit more fun... he's probably just stuck up and smart and thinks everyone is academically stupid compared to him," Rangiku sighed.

Isshin shook his head.

"Actually, the kid doesn't talk about DIGS at all. He doesn't talk about school or grades or any of that stuff. He doesn't _care,_ oddly enough. When I say he's a hell to deal with... All I'm just saying is that he's rude and bold. I'd appreciate if you shook his system up a bit, or softened him up alternatively."

Rukia kept her mouth shut for the entirety of the time Isshin spoke. Strangely, the description of his son fit completely with a particular ginger shit she knew, but she decided to not jump to conclusions. There was no way that Satan desendant would be related to someone as valued to Rukia as Isshin. They just didn't have the corresponding personalities, the achievements, and the core concepts they followed life along with. Well... whatever. It was highly unlikely anyway, and Rukia wanted to take _every_ oppurtunity to forget him.

Isshin turned his back on the seven, then walked to the lift without another word. His hand raised and waved at them.

"I can't do the introductions for you, so you'll just have to get to know each other without starting a fight... though _that's_ a challenge in itself. I'm coming back from a meeting at five in the evening, so you can come to the office then," was all he said before he disappeared behind the elevators with his signature, cheesy grin.

For the next minute or so, Yumichika, Renji, Shuhei and Ikkaku started organising their 'treatment plan' to fix the supposed guy's attitude, while Soifon, unimpressed, just stared at her phone. Rangiku put a hand on Rukia's head.

"I really thought someone fun was gonna walk through the door today and shake the place up. But it's most probably just a snotty nerd kid... like you said before. Bummer." she groaned, sighing heavily.

Rukia didn't care, at this point.

When thirty seconds later, two figures walked out the elevator.

The first, Chad. So he did come in? What a relief; he hadn't died or anything extreme like that. Usually, no one would hear from the guy if something went wrong, and the same thing happened a lot in their past operations. The second...

 _No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No._

 _This wasn't happening._

 _It wasn't real._

 _It wasn't. Real._

Rukia's violet irises flared, pupils constricted, blood vessels widened, heart stopped entirely for what felt like an eternity. She could only fix her gaze onto the tuft of _orange_ hair behind Chad.

 _Orange._

 _Ginger._

 _Ginger shit._

The man that had allowed his security guards to _step_ on Rukia Kuchiki's head was Isshin Shiba's _son._

Rukia found herself looking down at the table surface straight away. She didn't even want to look in his direction. If she did, she'd probably get up and kill him.

 _That would be messy._

"Hey... so this is Ichigo, guys. He's Shin's son." Chad introduced in his usual, calm and deep tone of voice. Ichigo, but still _ginger shit_ in Rukia's head, stood beside his towering friend, presenting himself properly. "We grew up together and went to the same school and university... but he just didn't want me to ever mention him."

"You don't mention _anything. Ever. Let alone Ichigo."_ Yumichika remarked unimpressed, and raised his eyebrows.

" _Hi Ichigo!_ Is that really your name though? A strawberry?" Rangiku stood from her chair, waving as if the orange haired male were standing ten feet away from her. Ichigo, oddly, bowed a little towards the blonde, and rolled his eyes afterwards.

"Yeah... it is. And it's meant to mean protector, not strawberry." He responded with minimal harshness to his voice.

Shuhei spun his chair around completely, then back to facing him. "How much can you drink in one night? And are you a virgin?"

"Ciroc, Sake, Soju and champagne are basically water for me. I can do five, or six bottles of Hennessy and Jack? Wine... wine's just fancy juice, Beer... about three litres, depending on the alcohol concentration. And _no._ " Ichigo responsed casually, shoved his hands in his pockets, and raised an eyebrow.

"Is your hair colour natural?" Yumichika asked, stroking his chin. Ichigo looked slightly creeped out by the question, but replied with a flat 'yes' soon after.

Ikkaku scoffed and stood up.

"Yeah... alright, big man. What's this talk about you being a hell to put up with? Apparently you're a bully and you're straight up mean."

Renji stood up after Ikkaku, and scratched the side of his head.

"Yeah... Shin asked us to set you straight and shake you up a bit... but you don't seem bad right now. What's all that about? Bullied people in school?"

Ichigo, uninterested to the brink of death at this point, sat himself down and threw his head back. "I don't know why he said that... he's just an over reactive clown most of the time, redhead. And I don't know what you're so overprotective and mad about, baldy. You've got no more hair to rip out, anyway." he simply replied, the blatant _boredom_ present in his tone now.

Rukia still hadn't said anything, or opened her mouth. She decided she didn't care. She didn't want to be associated with him or even breathe the same air as him. Sure, it would be hard, if he was working up in the top floor office with the rest of them. But she'd just keep her distance, make very minimal conversation about work with him, and only look at him if it were _absolutely nessecary._

She was still torn between her impressions of him; he looked _beautiful,_ from the _two_ or _three_ times she properly got to look at him. That being his hands and his shoulders, and his covered abdomen... but that was about it. But he was so _rude,_ so _annoying,_ and so full of himself. She didn't need any of that, the same way she didn't need to hear the fistfight ginger shit and Ikkaku were now engaging in on the other corner of the room.

She did notice, from the corner of her eye, that he was wearing the S8 field uniform like the rest of them. Black, short sleeved collared shirt, combat trousers and the same black boots, fingerless resistance gloves and the same gadgets tied around his waist. She could also make out the slightly bulging, tight shape of his biceps, which were just as tan as his face and stretched the sleeve of his shirt, creating those common fitted bands across the material. They looked so _firm,_ and touchable... and perfect to hold when-

 _Rukia. This guy let his guards STEP on your head. Your HEAD. And you're gaping at his fucking looks, thinking about him sexually? Pull yourself together, idiot!_

She couldn't tell Renji that _he_ was the guy she talked about earlier. Renji would only open his dumb mouth and blurt it out, start an entire war between the other members and Ichigo, if they found out one of their team member's _heads_ were stepped on.

Renji cracked his knuckles out of already built up irritation from the newly arrived orange head.

"Hey. You've got to pick a partner to work with while you're here. You know that right? Partners have to share their workload and operate together, and also need to meet the task specification for the week equally." He shouted out across the room, to which Ichigo and Ikkaku stopped mid-way through their punches and looked back at the redhead.

Ichigo let go, and walked back to the table, completely ignoring Ikkaku's presence altogether.

"Well... who doesn't mind joining a pair? I don't mind working with anyone. But not you, Redhead."

"Yeah, why not?"

"You just look weird."

"You only annoy people who have time to get angry over you. Quit your shit and just grow up, like everyone else. And you're one to talk about weird looks... fucking orange head."

Rangiku waved her hands in front of a now infuriated Renji, and tutted at him.

"Stop being so rude to him, Renji! He just came here, you idiot. Ichigo, you can choose who you want to work with. Right now, there's the head pair, Soifon and Chad, Yumichika and I, Shuhei and Ikkaku, and Renji and Rukia. You can work with Chad, seeing as you guys are already best friends, and Soifon can manage Ikkaku and Shuhei for a bit in a group of three."

"Or a threesome." Shuhei added slyly. Soifon responded to him by throwing her keys at his face, which Rukia _knew_ left a mark somewhere on his forehead.

However, to the group's initial surprise, Ichigo shook his head.

"From what I know, Chad and Soifon are the most important pair and do a lot of the harder paperwork and organise some of the roles in upcoming operations, so I'd rather _not_ disturb them. Who's involved in a lot of combat? Like... in riots and chases and tracking and arresting criminals directly?" He pondered aloud with furrowed eyebrows.

Rangiku paused. "Well, Ikkaku and Shuhei do more interrogation and punishment stuff, Yumichika and I handle possessions and data and look for information in operations... oh yeah! Renji and Rukia! They're always in charge of holding up distractions, and they do _everything_ you just mentioned. A lot of the main dirty fighting."

"Then can I join with her?"

And Rukia could feel her gag reflex building up inside the bottom of her gut. She couldn't believe that ginger shit was Isshin's son, to start with, and on top of all that, _he_ wanted to partner up with _her?_

Rukia displayed no physical emotion whatsoever, and simply nodded with her gaze averted to the table top. She'd already spent the entire morning rethinking her whole wish for a 'challenge' and something more interesting to happen, but she plain didn't _deserve this._

 _God... I know I'm not perfect... but why would you challenge me with Satan in an orange wig?_

And to think it couldn't get worse, Yumichika just had to open his _big fat mouth_.

Okay, well there's still loads of work to do this week. It's only Monday, but the spec is pretty big and it needs to be done before Friday night. We can go out drinking with Ichigo this Saturday, too. Ichigo, seeing as you're a pair now with Rukia, Renji, can join me and Rangiku. Rukia, why don't you two go take a walk and you can explain all the other stuff to Ichigo so he's sure on what to do?" He suggested a little _too_ happily.

Rukia cringed internally, and closed her eyes for a second, just to regain her sanity. Opening them again, she nodded to Yumichika and stood up, walking into the lift with no intention to look back. She expected that Ichigo follow her... probably the same way those stupid guards followed the movement of her fingers and decided to throw her onto the fucking ground.

Four minutes later, and they were still in silence. They walked out of the elevator in silence, down the glass staircase in silence, out of the main revolving door entrance in silence, and crossed the road in silence. Rukia didn't say anything, and looked only ahead of her, with her eye drifting _ever so slightly_ over to the ginger shit's arms, to which she could notice the prominent, bulky few veins underneath his moulded tan skin.

"Where the hell are you taking me?" Ichigo eventually asked, and Rukia looked back to her view straight ahead.

"To a coffee shop named _Cup Roast._ "

"Where's that?"

"Thirty more seconds."

"We could've just sat outside."

"Well, I need a cup of tea. And I'll get you one too."

"I don't like tea."

"Coffee?"

"You got it."

 _Man, what a child,_ Rukia groaned internally. She didn't even know why she'd offered to get him a hot drink too. Maybe because she was just _that_ kind, she even passively did favours for people she didn't like.

And one satanic ginger shit.

Entering the warmer atmosphere of the cafe, Rukia had been welcomed by the slow roasting aroma of coffee beans, which she knew were only starting be ground and stored about now. Ordering their drinks, the two walked over to the corner-most booth and sat opposite each other. Rukia still looked down, glaring at the table top, with no intention of looking at the ginger shit in front of her.

He started to speak, oddly enough, which she thought he wouldn't have done. He said something pretty surprising in itself, too.

"First of all... I'm gonna get this out of the way. You're making an effort to be nice to me, so I'm gonna apologise on behalf of my bodyguards for being rough with you the other day. Especially for when the head officer stepped on your head. I fired him, after that."

Rukia's right ear perked up slightly. Slowly, she looked up, and met eyes with him.

They were _amber._ Burning, infuriated, but careless, and honey-glazed _amber._ They were so overwhelming and beautiful, they conveyed about a thousand emotions all at once, and Rukia had _never_ seen somebody with eyes like that. What could've possibly given him the ability to stare like that? What could've made him feel so many emotions altogether like that?

Adhering to his apology, Rukia decided it was only respectful back to look at him while he talked, so she kept her stare fixed straight into his, unfazed. She didn't believe that he fired the guy, though.

"And I'm serious, about that. I did fire him. Not because you were famous or strong or a lady or anything... just because I thought it was way too excessively harsh, no matter who he did it do. I just... wanted a _reaction_ from you."

Rukia blinked slowly, still unimpressed.

"Yeah. Okay."

"Are you serious? I literally spent all morning actually thinking of a way to say my apology to you. I don't do that for _anyone. And a_ ll you say is 'yeah, okay'?"

"Why did you want a reaction?"

"Because I _also_ wanted to react to something."

"Yeah? Well I don't exist to entertain you."

Rukia knew she couldn't put up with her calm and collected policy at this point, and went out fully in irritation. Her voice started to clear up and she sat up properly, hoping to shove her words down his stupid ears.

"So you expected me to know _exactly_ what you were talking about that day when I'd _never_ seen you in my life, and you expected me to be accepting when you told me you smoked _my fucking weed?!"_ She hissed, infuriated.

"If you didn't know me, then I didn't know you just as much, so why the fuck would I _return_ an expensive drug that I happen to smoke too, back to a fucking _stranger?!"_

Rukia felt like she was talking to a brick wall. She shoved the coffee cup to Ichigo's side of the table and sipped her own, attempting to regain her sanity _again._

"For the greater good."

"That doesn't help me in anyway."

"It helps you feel better."

"It really doesn't."

"Maybe this is why you're so fucking angry and rude all the time... you must _feel_ like a piece of shit."

Rukia smirked ever so slightly near the rim of her teacup, and closed her eyes. There was _no_ way she'd let this satanic orange head live a relaxing, stress free life when he clearly didn't deserve it. In a sense, she was _happy_ she'd finally found someone to annoy and give a hard time to.

Just as long as he didn't open his mouth.

Then it'd be more of a challenge.

"Well... whatever. I accept the apology," she sighed, taking another sip of the steaming hot beverage. "It's all in the past now. Just watch what you fucking say... _Ichigo._ I might just kill you one day by accident on a field operation."

"I'd just call my bodyguards to step on your head again and destroy your pride... _all over again."_

"That was low. You're actually evil."

"I'm not. You're just easily challenged."

"Am not."

They weren't talking about task specifications, or quotas for the week, or future operations. But they had started on a clean page, and Rukia hoped that it would stay clean.

It obviously wouldn't.

 **RIGHTY HO. CHAPTER FOUR DONE! So... ichigo and rukia are supposedly starting a new leaf, but they'll be right back with the arguing again soon.**

 **Once again, please review and tell me what you think so far! Ichigo's POV will start next chapter and continue for a few more after that, and then j will alternative POVs between the two after Ichigo's had his proper introduction.**

 **REMEMBER TO REVIEW! :D**

 **Blake-San Xx**


	5. Chapter Five

**WOO. Chapter 5 already! So we're starting off with Precious Ichigo, this time, and get to know him a little more... A late happy birthday to him!**

Ichigo Kurosaki sat up in his king-sized, black wooden bed. The time was nine in the morning, and his hand reached out to shield his eyes from the initial rays of sunlight that penetrated the curtains and formed patterns on his crinkled, white duvet. He sat there for a minute or so, stretched both arms and circled his shoulders, then slumped in his position and stared at the mirrored wall opposite him.

Three days had passed, since his arrival at the S.S. He'd met eight new particularly odd people, which had entertained him after quite a long while, especially a certain moody petite woman. But he still didn't feel entertained enough to stop screwing and scowling like he usually would do out of boredom.

Ichigo was an _extremely attractive_ young man. He was tall, had beautiful tan, glowing skin, burning amber eyes, a chiselled jawline and a strong set of defined facial features, perfectly sculpted lips and thick dark eyebrows that rimmed his mysterious gaze. His eyelashes were charmingly long and slightly curled at the ends, while the rest of his body was toned and well defined, complimenting his thin and slender shape. His hair, wildly orange in the sunlight and usually a mixture of chestnut, auburn, and ginger in more neutral, appropriate lighting, seemed to strike the most attention from people, though. He smiled his personal, cheesy smile that _no living human on the planet would ever see_ into his reflection. No, no. Nobody deserved something so rare and special.

Ichigo created and introduced the DIGS service two years ago, at age nineteen. Growing up with immaculate grades, perfect work experience and ethic and performance in his previous various positions as a forensic scientist, an operation leader in the S.S, and a computer analyst, technology and the World Wide Web were essentially his second home. To have already achieved an electronic engineering degree in two years proved that he was intelligent enough to do _anything_ in his field, and do it well. Ichigo wasn't much of an enthusiast over his dad's company, so didn't pay much attention to the stupid lectures he'd get about joining the S.S permanently and securing a position at his department of choice, to which he would eventually become the head of. He woke up everyday, nonetheless with confidence and a strive to achieve better at the companies he'd worked at, like the Japanese secret service and the japanese police service. At some point after graduating, Ichigo decided he would contribute to helping his dad by developing a programme which would accelerate the duties for which the field department were held responsible. It wasn't exactly the easiest thing he'd done, but no doubt about it, he had created one of the most powerful, and lethally dangerous services in the entire world.

He had gone through forming thousands of Alibi names, thousands of fake identification cards and documents and thousands of forged and non-official company names in order to gain trust from the hundred of thousands of illegal trade and service owners, and he wasn't caught in a _single_ occasion. He'd shoved all the data into specially designed drives and formulated the now world-renown and highest dependable programme to exist; DIGS. To Isshin's surprise, crime rates had decreased steadily and rapidly between uses of DIGS in the S.S, proving that Ichigo really had accelerated the work efficiently of his dad's company.

And that, of the few things he really cared about, satisfied him. Isshin was happy and proud, so Ichigo was happy and proud.

 _Partially happy,_ to be exact. Sure, computers and games and softwares and all things that had a freaking circuit in them worked like magic in Ichigo's hands, but he wasn't all about that.

He _loved_ to fight.

Since the age of four, he'd trained in a countless number of fighting style arts and worked out regularly to build and maintain his strength. Despite the nature of his work, he still seemed to react and respond fluently and correspondingly in more hostile situations when thrown into them. He'd trained along with Tatsuki Arisawa, an old childhood best friend who he still talked and hung out with when he wasn't working. To mention friends, he had quite a few, all of which he shared very strong connections with and often prioritised over, even when it wasn't appropriate.

Ichigo lived a mostly normal life, aside from the tension of his work. He also earned a ten figure salary, due to secret services from many other countries in the world integrating his DIGS creation into their own respected procedures, but didn't care so much for it and donated most of it to charities he and Isshin had signed together up for. He wasn't namely famous at all, for protective reasons because of his work; in fact, people often looked at him twice before staring off in confusion to his oddly coloured hair and tall height. But he _loved_ this the most out of everything in his life; privacy.

He lived in a spacious, penthouse apartment in central Tokyo, alone. He did have his two younger sisters, Karin and Yuzu, but didn't want to expose the pressure of work to them, so agreed with Isshin that it was only appropriate to move out with a manageable distance between the two homes. Nobody came over, save for friends like Tatsuki or Mizuiro and Uryu and Keigo and Chad and Orihime, though Orihime, not so much. She was an ex, but they agreed to stay friends.

Women did come over frequently though. Random women, women from the S.S which he could easily draw in, women in bars and clubs who'd move to him without a second thought to their morals, daughters of other famous company CEO's and daughters of dad-friends of Isshin's he'd mingle with at parties. They were _always_ one night stands, though.

Showering, dressing himself, drinking his morning coffee, then heading out the apartment, down the lift, and to the S.S headquarter complex, Ichigo sighed as he drove through the semi-busy city streets.

Ichigo was overall a simple guy, but specifically, a _bored_ simple guy. He was easily thrown into boredom by everything and anything; conversations with people, animals, books, chats with girls, parties. But he _loved_ challenges, competitions, goals, motives, milestones, questions. Not all the time... but only when he wasn't so occupied in his work.

And to his minor convenience, he'd found one.

Rukia Kuchiki.

He had to admit, he did feel _slightly_ bad about the incident on that Sunday. What was more, he _did_ come up with the trouble of apologising, which he would usually never do, but the stupid midget just stared straight through his soul as if _he_ were the one putting her to sleep.

All he just wanted to do that day was get a reaction out of her, small or big, but a _physical_ reaction. One where she'd fight back, or do something cool that secret agents and fighters did in movies in the middle of an intense scene. He heard _too_ much about her in Isshin's random dinner parties at home and other venues, from other CEO figures and Seikan Corporation's Byakuya himself, though he didn't expect a man with one facial expression to talk much about family at all.

Eventually arriving at the complex, he parked his car, swung his chained keycard around his index finger, signed in and took the elevator to the top floor office.

He wasn't surprised with the scene he walked into. Baldy and sixty-nine face were lifting weights, Big-tits and fashion boy were organising the arms cabinet again, Soifon, Chad, and redhead were having a small meeting on the side, which Soifon led and Chad and redhead listened intently to. He had to admit, the office interior was a refreshing new change of environment to him. Enormous, almost the size of a football pitch, stations spaced equally in each corner of the floor, an entire gym at one corner, a board meeting division near an open planned line of oppositely positioned glass desks in another corner, a _library_ of different arms and gadgets stacked and organised neatly into library sized shelving cabinets, and a set of sofa lounges, bar and television screen in the last corner.

 _Damn, these guys are seriously facilitated,_ he thought enviously, staring at the lounge in particular which he knew he could get a good nap or two out of.

Another thing he noticed was that moody midget wasn't here. She'd probably be in the middle of shoving a hard pole up her ass to complete her uniform for the day, then stomp in and glare at the pile of work so hardly it would write itself up. That was most likely the way she got through the week, he thought.

Ichigo also didn't realise how much he _hated_ moody midget's face. Her eyes were always narrowed and glowed a dull, uninterested glow, her eyebrows were lowered and relaxed at _all_ times; hell, he wouldn't be surprised if she looked like that when she got stabbed. Maybe that was the case, maybe she did get stabbed once on an operation and reacted so emotionlessly the criminal just got confused, creeped out and un-stabbed her.

 _Wait. Why're you thinking about her so intricately? Put on your man pants, Ichigo. You're thinking about a midget here._

And halfway through his internal speech of hatred towards her face, it so happened to move past him. She finally arrived into the building.

Small as ever, she was dressed in her usual uniform, same low, careless bun on one side of her head, same stupid bored eyes, same lips relbaxed into their natural position, which didn't smile nor scowl or frown. She was also holding two, large, flat boxes, one brown and the other black. He could also smell a distinct, _edible_ aroma coming from them, which he had to admit, smelled _delicious._

"What's this?" He asked, poking at the boxes, to feel Rukia's hard wrist knock his fingers away. She was standing about a foot distance from him, and stood in the weirdest position, as if he had a contagious disease that spread in seconds of being near him. That annoyed him even _more._

Rukia's head turned around slowly, but robotically, and Ichigo actually shivered at what he saw.

Her lips were stretched out into the most lethally terrifying smile ever, as if she were a machine programmed to kill him in the disguise of a human. Her eyes were still narrowed, but smirked at him in their own, sparkling way.

 _I didn't even know she could do that with her face._

"Wanna know a fact? Boxes..." she started with a patronising whisper, "Are... you guessed it. For _opening. So MAYBE, if I open them... in the next ten seconds... just MAYBE, you'll find out."_

Ichigo felt his entire being deflate. He actually wanted to squash the already microscopic height she had into a bag, burn the bag, then feed the ashes to Keigo. She talked to him like he was _four fucking years old._ She sure had a lot of talk and walk for somebody who got turned down at fair rides.

Nonetheless, he moved two centimetres away from her in hope to shut her stupid act up, and peered at the side of the boxes to reveal their contents as she lifted the top flaps up.

 _Doughnuts and bagels._

They looked _perfect._ Ichigo had his fair experience with the best food out there, worldwide, but he couldn't quite understand just where the moody midget found these _specific_ places. The bagels, donuts, and that coffee shop from the other day.

"Where did you get those from?"

"Shut up."

"You shut up. Just tell me where you got them from, _kid."_

Shut up."

"If you say shut up _one_ more time... I'm gonna get my guards to come squash you on the floors again."

"That's low."

Ichigo could feel a cringeworthy chill descending through his spine, when Yumichika's elegant, but deep tone spoke uncomfortably close to his ear.

"Rukia, Really? The poor, I mean _rich_ guy's just joined a couple days ago, _and_ he's Shin's son. At least give him a bagel."

"Shut up, Yumichika."

"Try saying something _other_ than that, sweetie."

" _Shut up,_ Yumichika

At this point, the elegant, glossy black haired male could feel the fully detected rage bubbling in Rukia's veins, so he just turned to face Ichigo, who _really_ didn't appreciate the almost non-existent distance between them.

"Stupid girl... she shouldn't be talking so foul as a Kuchiki. I _always_ expect too much from her. But ignore her... come to _me_ if you need her attitude sorted out." He tutted, softening his voice like some sort of patronizing father. Ichigo shuffled a centimetre away, but found that Yumichika just pouted at him.

 _What the hell is with this guy?_ He questioned, swallowing anxiously, the immediately exhaled as the weird feather wearing male walked off.

Ichigo found that Rukia had turned around to face the table, and therefore him. He observed the usual, disgusted and unamused, emotionless expression occupying her face, and rolled his eyes. Did this midget _ever_ wear emotion without sarcasm?

"You look ugly with that face on.

"At least I have to _put_ a face on to be ugly."

"What're you implying?"

"Exactly what you think I'm implying, DIGS creator Mr. Kurosaki. Put that into your fatass brain. You're. _Ugly._ "

Emphatically pronouncing the last word, the stupid midget unstacked a series of white dishes, plating out each differently filled bagel and glaring disgustedly down at the table. If looks could ruin, she'd rot all those damn innocent bagels. Ichigo couldn't even look at her out of irritation from her attitude. Why was she so _rude_ for no reason? He hadn't done anything to her, except for the head stepping, but that wasn't even him, and they'd already left that in the past. Maybe she was just _that short;_ her fuse came shorter than usual too.

"You know, I don't know where the fuck you're getting this anger from, but you can't just talk to people like that."

"You didn't have a problem talking to me like that on that Sunday. Where'd _that_ attitude come from?"

"That's how I usually talk. You're not the only one on the planet, so _get used to it._ "

"I don't need to get used to anything. _You_ need to get used to the fact that you're here to work on a more physical field, the way _you_ wanted it, and have to put up with the rest of us."

"I can put up with all of them. But not you, _midget._ "

And he could feel his fist clenching out of completely agitation by the sour words of the tiny Satan. Psh, she wasn't even worth the effort.

 _Effort? You're making an effort? Why're you making an effort... on someone else, Ichigo?_

The truth and simple fact of the matter, was that ichigo had found somebody who _actually_ annoyed him. Or gotten some kind of response out of him... a surprised response. Actually, this entire _group_ of people were particularly different. He had the support of two weirdly strange airheads, fistfought with a baldy, had complicated hatred towards the tall, annoyingly perceptive redhead, found a guy who drank just as much as he did, and a midget who he actually _hated._

What could've made her so angry and cold though? Ichigo kept asking himself this, but only brushed it off with the fact that he didn't _really_ care, and was somewhat happy to at least have some sort of struggle for once. He really didn't know exactly what he was doing. It was just fun to annoy her, and _her_ specifically.

The rest of the day went by pretty quickly. He grew familiar with the location of all the arms and gadget types in the cabinets and indexed shelves, frequently sparred with Ikkaku and Shuhei by wooden swords, _purposefully_ whacking the baldy on the head to set him off steaming, fistfought with Renji for the first time today after countless conversations of how they'd rip each other's brains out, was taught all the little secrets and occasional slips of the past operations by each member by Soifon, and been forced to listen to Rangiku's advice on women, with Yumichika _heavily suggesting_ that Ichigo lay it off with women and explore with men, a little more.

 _Yeah, he's gay for sure._

But Ichigo didn't talk to the midget. He didn't want to. Because every time he looked up from his desk, he only saw that same, uninterested face and the occasional glare that she wore when focusing, and that was it. She was just so _difficult_ to talk to. He had to admit, she had really good replies, insulted him regularly just as much as he insulted others, and kept her distance, but couldn't also help feeling _annoyed._

 _Oh well, fighting with her is way better than punching at a keyboard all day._

The clock read six in the evening, and Ichigo shoved all the loose paper, snack wrappers and empty cups from his desk to the midget's, on the opposite time. He raked a hand through his fiery orange locks, and shoved his hands in his pockets. He wondered when he would actually be able to carry out an escort, take a politic, and hoped the old man would let him at some point.

Lost in his thoughts, he stood, looking down at the _Seikan_ branded monitor screen that displayed a schedule for next week. He actually flinched when he found all the wrappers and cups and paper he'd moved, shoved back onto the desk and cluttered around the monitor. Looking up, he saw the midget's stupid glaring face.

"Happy birthday. You get to tidy up your own mess _and_ mine," she spat, throwing a paper ball at his lower chest, to which he caught before it hit him. She turned back, unimpressed, and probably enjoyed the pure _irritation_ radiating off his body. Stupid evil midget.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?"

"A dumb, ginger shit who likes to shit on other people because he's a shit himself."

"I'm not ginger."

"Yes you are. I question God for giving you the intelligence to make DIGS... I wouldn't even be surprised if you were an evil criminal who tortured people and did experiments on them."

"If you're still pissed about the security guard on your head thing, get over it. I said sorry, _and_ I fired the guy. _Can't you ever leave anything_ _in the past?_ "

Ichigo shut his eyes, angrily furrowing his eyebrows as he refused to look at the midget's face while speaking. He paused at the silence after his last sentence, wondering why she didn't reply. Opening his eyes, he immediately noticed the still glaring, but hurt expression on her face, realising he must've actually done something to her.

Rukia glanced back at him for three seconds only. Her violet irises almost glowered in rage, and her expression looked sour than _ever._ Her eyelids were narrowed and she didn't blink. She turned back around again and walked off, into the lift.

" _Never."_

For some reason, her single word sent an odd, shiver down his back. She didn't seem angry at _all_ because of him.

 **DAMN**. **This chapter's been slightly shorter but I needed to get another one out! Beautiful ichigo has finally entered and we'll get to learn even more about him later.**

 **Why is rukia so angry? FIND OUT ON THE NEXT CHAPTER OF... NUMBER 43 UNFAZED!!**

 **REVIEW AS ALWAYS PLEASE! THANK YOU!**

 **Blake-San Xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter six! The last chapter was a little short compared to the others but I don't want chapters being textbooks now XD so I'm gonna stick in everything I want into this chapter.**

 **Enjoy!**

Two weeks, and Ichigo hadn't spoken to Rukia properly once. 

Well, he asked her three questions, and she replied with a yes, a no, and an 'I don't know.' And that was it. For some reason, after their last, painfully awkward conversation, he seemed to avoid her even more. He did think about why she answered his question so sourly that day, only once, but thought about it well and carefully. She didn't seem like the forgiving type... but what could've made her like this?

He asked himself this about a hundred times now. She didn't look too uptight and angry around the others, but why with him? Because he hurt her pride? Why was she so dragging about it? Why _couldn't_ she just let it go?

He decided not to care anymore. If she was going to be so damn rude, he didn't deserve to have his thoughts occupied over her. He regretted apologising in the first place. He must've looked like an idiot doing that.

Ichigo strode into the top floor office, with a neutral, already bored stare on his face. He walked past the giggling Yumichika, the scowling Renji, the focused Soifon and Chad, the segueing Shuhei and Ikkaku, the cheerful Rangiku, and finally over to the end of the desks, where his stood. He noticed that today, everyone was sitting at their desks and typing away, as if they had some sort of impossible quota to meet. They talked among each other, with Rangiku's arm nudging Yumichika's as Ichigo finally sat down and tucked the swivel chair into the surface.

Opposite him, he saw Rukia. Her monitor screen was shifted to a side, so her face was no longer hidden by the computer, and her same, dull violet hues were fixed on the printed booklet held in her small hands... _Damn_ they were small. He could probably close his hand around _both_ her fists if she let him.

Not that he wanted to do that. Or touch her, at all, for the matter. Her rudeness was probably from a viral disease he didn't want to catch. His gaze averted quickly back to the screen, and viewing his timetable, he found one task highlighted in red on the spreadsheet.

It read " _Escort Orihime Inoue from Sabaku Hotel to Meisa Recording Studio. Task paired with Rukia Kuchiki."_

 _Finally,_ He'd be able to fucking _physically_ move for a job. He really didn't see the point of starting here with paperwork and report reading in the first place. What he didn't quite notice was the particular client needed to be escorted, and reading the task header once again, his entire mood deflated.

 _Orihime Inoue._

Inoue wasn't exactly the worst person to escort, but ichigo did have a bit of an awkward relationship with her a while back. They were in love, yes, at some point, back in high school, but she felt that his concept of talking was a little too _advanced_ for her and just happily nodded whenever he tried to talk about more abstractive stuff, like feelings and crap like that with her. He did have a physical attraction to her, _Jesus,_ that volumptious, curvy, slender but very full body and that long, butter-soft auburn hair, those enormous round, bouncing breasts. But he soon realised that he didn't fit with others based on appearance, and their relationship as a whole soon enough became one-sided. He'd left her in complete tears after they broke up, and felt bad for a day or two, then decided she would have to be strong enough to get over it. He didn't understand _why_ he liked her specifically... she was sweet and caring and gentle and all, but so _weird_ at the same time. Then again, he was friends with weirdos like Keigo and partially Mizuiro and Uryu, so he didn't beat himself up about it too much.

Rukia's tiny shoulder-span shifted over to the centre of his view, to which he looked up to with already bored eyes. She didn't seem that entertained either.

"Alright, Ginger shit. Did you-"

" _Stop_ calling me that, you dwarf-"

"No thanks, I'll pass. So, did you read the task? She's a pretty damn popular singer so we've got to be careful. Her fans are complete maniacs."

"Oh yeah, I've seen that."

"So you listen to her music? I didn't know Satan liked ballad and Japanese pop."

"I don't. Every idiot in Japan knows her."

"So you're saying you're an idiot too?"

"Shut up."

"No."

Ichigo stood up and walked over to the arms cabinet, trying hard not to snap his finger bones out of the pressure he applied to them while clenching his fist. He couldn't _believe_ that this midget had _that_ much pride to be able to taunt him like that. Who the _fuck_ did she think she was? Whatever she was sulking about for the past few days, he didn't care anymore. She probably deserved wharhever happened, anyway. Ugly dwarf.

He snapped each of the essential gadgets into his waist belt strap, the taser, he wouldn't be surprised if that came to use today, handcuffs, a baton, work phone, etc. All members were required to take along the standard gadget set, and for more unique occasionals, would take actual arms. His arm shot out and shoved the midget's head away as she did the same, to which she seemed quite annoyed about.

"W-what was that for?!" She stuttered, slapping the side of his arm. She actually left a sting on the side of his skin after she did it, the damn bitch. He wished all "don't hit ladies" rules didn't apply to her... she probably wasn't even a human, anyway.

He would've taught her.

"For existing."

 _What're you getting so worked up about? You don't even care about this idiot,_ his internal voice reassured, and Ichigo almost instantly switched to a more refreshed mood.

Their journey to Inoue's hotel consisted of complete silent in the S.S ranger car. Rukia refused to let Ichigo drive, which he didn't appreciate as he was _certain_ they'd have to pull over and be asked why somebody that _tiny_ was driving a car. He could've just pushed her out of the way easily and driven, but his morals were dominating him. Jeez, when were morals that important? Why couldn't they be muted in the case of this dwarf Satan?

"Kurosaki. Are you always this easily annoyed?" The midget asked, turning left to a quiet, brightly lit suburban street.

Ichigo found his fist itching again to shoot it out to the midget's nose, but resisted with gritted teeth again. Of course he was annoyed; a _midget_ was taunting him.

"I don't know what you're talking about, because I'm not annoyed. I'd need to _care_ if I wanted to be annoyed. And I don't."

He reassured himself as he said that. It made sense, anyway. Why the heck was he getting so worked up over the tiniest of the human race? She wasn't even properly taunting him either; most of her insults were just lazy.

"Well, you were pretty relaxed that Sunday when you talked to me... acting all high and mighty."

"Save it. I'm literally sick and tired of hearing you bitch about that day. Goddamn... get over it, already."

For a second or two, a fragment... possibly a quantum of Ichigo's mind hoped to provoke the same response he got from her a couple days ago. It still bothered him as to what it was.

 _Why does it bother you, ichigo? What a fucking loser. Why do you even care in the first place?_

But maybe he did want to know... maybe he did care. Because _maybe..._ just _maybe,_ it was an interesting response. And usually, when Ichigo grew interest over something, it turned out to be something that he engaged in very quickly. Something to work towards... a goal.

But rukia flatly shook her head.

"Nah," she answered, quite casually.

Forty-five minutes later, the two had arrived at _Sabaku Hotel._ Ichigo instantly caught sight of the auburn haired goddess, standing outside with a brown paper bag in her hand. She was accompanied by two other men, who held suitcases and shopping bags. Her bodyguards, probably.

Exiting the car, he stretched his arms and looked down to the tiny female, who stood still and stared at Inoue from their distance. He could somewhat make out that she had mouthed a 'Man... She's beautiful' while she stared.

Rukia then turned around and shoved her hands in her pockets. She tossed him a key card, and an identification card. The two walked down the street, still well out of the sight of Orihime Inoue.

"Her team also have their own car. Do you want to drive her to the studio, or the team? She's-"

"Team. I'll drive the team."

"Huh...? Oh. You're _shy,_ aren't you? You're one of those shy wittle cutesy boy fans-"

"Shut up."

 _And for the record, I dated her. So shut up, you tiny bitch._

Kurosaki-san? Kurosaki-san!" The auburn yelled out, waving her hand. Ichigo did feel himself sighing at her voice, at the sweetness of it but also the unessecary amount of energy. That was one of the things that tired him out when they dated. He could also feel the curious, yet devious smirk forming on the stupid midget's face beside him, which he _really_ didn't want to look at right now. Damn... she probably figured it out already.

He and Rukia stood before her, bowing quickly before the midget put on a professional, but determined facial expression.

"Good morning, Miss Inoue. We're from Soul Security, to escort you to your studio for your recording session. My name is Rukia Kuchiki, and I assume you know Mr. Kurosaki already?" Rukia spoke out firmly and politely. Though there was no doubt about the evilness that curled off her tongue in her last few words. Ichigo was a hundred percent sure she knew they knew each other now. Why the heck did Orihime have to shout his name out so suddenly?

The auburn haired goddess nodded in complete enlightenment, beaming at the sight of the two, but majorly towards Ichigo, who really needed to smoke a blunt anytime now out of annoyance.

"Yes! I do! Kurosaki-Kun and I are really good friends, actually! We knew each other since high school!" The busty singer chirped happily. "Oh... sorry. Thank you for helping us out today, Kuchiki-San. You're really famous, you know. Because of your brother and his company and your perfect service records. I'm seriously so happy I could even get my request through for you, and suddenly seeing Kurosaki-Kun here is even better!"

Ichigo groaned loudly in his head. God forbid if he ever had to hear another hour long ramble from Orihime ever again. He knew he'd _kill_ the stupid midget if she tried to force him to escort the singer in another car, where the two of them were alone again.

"Well, I'm honoured to be able to escort you today. Mr. Kurosaki will escort your team in another car while I escort you. Is that alright?" Rukia smiled with a raised eyebrow. _Jesus, she's ugly,_ Ichigo thought as he looked over to the team, who waved at him. It was better than looking at two significantly annoying girls chat in front of him.

After introducing themselves and briefly conversing with the singer's management team, Ichigo finally guided the makeup artist, vocal coach, general manager and photographer into the nearby, parked black vehicle. They noticed him instantly, asked about him and told them they were very grateful of his father's company, and he did hesitate to the fact that they could even recognise him in the first place. Isshin didn't like for his children to be covered everywhere in the public press, and only the more prestigious, rich company owners, CEOs and political figures knew who he was, from all those parties. Orihime had probably told them about it.

Three hours later, Orihime and her team were dropped off successfully, through the horrifyingly energetic crowd of fans that waited for her outside with posters, gifts, cards, chocolate, and flowers. Ichigo did find himself occasionally having to push a few fans out of the way, but nothing they couldn't handle if they were able to camp outside overnight in the scorching heat for one of her concerts. The job seeemed easy enough, making him think that the others had it this easy all the time. If he could make a couple thousands of dollars of an escort or two, he would've happily obliged.

Refusing to let the midget drive them back to the S. S glass complex, Ichigo fiercely took the steering wheel and sped through the green traffic lights with no intention of slowing down. He was damn annoyed, from the stupid dwarf Satan pissing him off and teasing him with Orihime today. He just couldn't _stand_ the way she talked in her witty, smart, unimpressed manner with him and main him feel plain _uncomfortable._

"Why the _hell_ were you acting like that the whole time?!" He finally hissed, unable to contain his anger. He shifted his sight to view the petite nemesis, who snorted.

"Like what?"

"Like a big fat bitch! You _knew_ I felt weird around Orihime."

"Why would you feel weird if you're just _friends?_ She's got a big fat crush on you, is all I'm saying."

"No she doesn't. She's just a bit annoying. But you knew that! You literally saw me get pissed and walk off! I really wanted to punch you."

"Your dad raised a real man, didn't he?"

"You're not a lady. You're _Satan."_

"Funny, 'cause you're also Satan in my head."

"I hate you. You know that? I _hate you."_

"Doesn't feel nice, does it? Being talked down on... try thinking about that before you do it to someone."

He refused to sit there and argue with her. He just kept driving and ignored everything she said. He never cared anyway.

Sunday came quickly after a tedious week of reports and an equally tedious Saturday, where Ichigo was assigned to organise all the arms in the cabinet for next week's criminal escort list.

Ichigo trained intensively at the gym on a sunday. He wrapped his knuckles with white cloth bandages, tucking the ends into the various folds in his palm. Flexing his finger joints outwards, then inwards, he laid his burning amber irises over the punching bag hung before him, and lost his track of thought as he started to abuse the structure with his fists.

Usually, forming and working with the DIGS software took over an enormous portion of Ichigo's time, more than the standard nine to five working hours. But since the age of fifteen, He would _never_ miss his boxing Sunday. It was one of the only constants in his life, something he looked forward too. He'd find himself sweating all the stress and anxiety and fear and anger and general _emotion_ off while he boxed, and then napped for the rest of the evening, or went out and drank with Chad, who also boxed with him and helped him out quite a lot.

Ichigo seriously needed to go out for a drink. It was just something about the bitter taste of alcohol, that stripped him of all the paranoia and pent up irritation from a long week of work. It was almost five in the afternoon, and he wondered if Chad was still working at the S.S Field Office; _God_ knew how much dedication this big old guy had to his job, one of the hardest workers Ichigo had ever known.

His head rolled around the thought of the other field members. He had to admit, it felt quite refreshing to be surrounded by a new bunch of people with the wackiest personalities he'd ever encountered. Angry Soifon and bubbly Rangiku and Knuckleheads Shuhei and Renji and weirdo Yumichika and thug Ikkaku.

And _her._

Not that he excluded her from everybody else; she was just as weird as the rest... it wasn't like he thought of her _specifically_ apart from the others. Damn, he couldn't even stand the image of her blunt, short little clenched figure in his mind. He could've just ripped his brain off there and then, if he didn't shake the thought off.

"Ichigo... what're you annoyed about now?"

Chad looked over to the unamused, orange haired male beside him, who'd already downed three Ciroc bottles. Ichigo's vision was slightly blurred in the midst of all the alcohol, but he could make out most of the club scene before him.

The two were back at _The Palm,_ not as busy as it was on Friday and Saturday nights, but still slightly packed nonetheless. Ichigo had his fair share of mingling with the other young women who sat around at the main bars and laughed daintily with cocktails in their hands, and batted their eyelashes towards him as he ordered more alcohol. The club lights were illuminating, emitting dark neon blue and red hues in the overall heated environment, and occasionally directed towards some of the dancers swinging away on the colour coordinated flashing floors.

The orange haired male sat there in his rented little room, looking out of the transparent glass walls and door, into the main club hall. He'd somehow, unknowingly made two brunettes follow him into the room, to which, they moved in closer to his seated figure and swirled their fingers round his chest as he spoke to them. They whispered weird things into his ears and laughed and talked about going back to his place, which he _really_ didn't want to fall under the responsibility of actually taking them home. Girls were great company, in general, but he's honestly just wanted something a little more... _amusing_ to look at. He looked down one of the busty brunettes who blinked as he stood up.

"Where are you going?" She asked, but Ichigo didn't really care to answer her. He just got up and walked off.

"To find my friend."

With that, he paced out of the room and entered the main hall, scanning the interior for Chad, who he technically speaking, wasn't actually looking for.

Ichigo wanted something _different_ to look at, in all honesty. He just wanted to talk to someone he didn't talk to often, or argue with someone he didn't like, just to feel better about himself. He needed that often after a week's worth of heavy work duties.

And putting up with _her._

After wandering around, and circling the entire ground floor at least twice, Ichigo set sight on something _slightly amusing,_ but mostly unexpected.

There, in one of the bar dining tables at a darkened corner, sat the lanky redhead Renji, and the female Satan. Their heads were swung back, eyes closed, and their fingers were occupied with neatly rolled joints. Renji grunted repeatedly, attempting to half- answer the dumb dwarf, who sat there with a smug, mischievous smile across her lips. Dare he say it, she actually looked kind of _good._

 _Woah. What the fuck. Tone it down, buddy. That's a four foot something devil, you're thinking about._

Ichigo smirked, dropping onto the chair between them. Their heads perked up, and faced him in half shock, half irritation.

"So, what're you two dealing with here? Roll me one, too."

* * *

 **ALRIGHT GUYS. IT HAS BEEN WAY TOO LONG BECAUSE I JUST STARTED UNIVERSITY BUT I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT THIS LITTLE CLIFFHANGER THINGY WAS JUST A POINT IM ABLE TO STOP AT SO I CAN ACTUALLY GET A CHAPTER UP.**

 **REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!!**


	7. Chapter Seven

" _So what're you two dealing with here? Roll me one too."_

The orange haired male, shuffling further down into his seat, continued switching views between the redhead and the tiny Satan. He still couldn't believe what his eyes were seeing at this moment in time; these two were goddamn _Hell_ to put up with during work hours, and almost always had a pole shoved in their ass from nine to five throughout the week. Now here they sat, completely unconscious and drunk to the bone. The redhead looked sloppier than usual, with his black t-shirt slightly stained with alcohol, and long crimson locks falling from the sides of his sharp, tattoed face. He sat there, slumped back in his seat, peering down back at Ichigo with a somewhat careless, relaxed gaze, obviously under the influence of some type of drug. 

Ichigo knocked his fist. 

"Yo... You dead or something?"

"Shut up, loser, I'm not deaf."

"Yeah? Didn't you hear me? Roll me one too."

"I don't think you can handle it."

"Are you out of your fucking mind? I can smoke twice as much of _anything_ more than you, red pubes."

"It's not mine. It's Rukia's. Ask her."

Renji irritatedly gestured towards the petite Satan, who sat on the other side of the lounge area, squatted down. Ichigo considered taking her weed again, without asking her, smoking it himself and relieving in the fact that he'd done exactly the same thing that angered her in the first place when they'd accidentally met each other on that very Sunday, but decided he wasn't the _rudest_ person to exist and chose to patronise her. His unimpressed amber hues rolled over to view her.

He wasn't _completely_ annoyed at what he saw. 

She looked _different._ Not different, as in dressed up, wearing makeup or with styled hair, but different in her facial expression. Which was _very_ surprising considering she always had that same, fucking _stupid_ unfazed look on twenty-four seven.

The petite Satan's violet irises were softened and calmed, as were the muscles that usually caused her eyebrows furrow, now relaxed and evoking a warmer, more satisfied expression to her face. Her creamy skin glowed iridescently underneath the dimmed, neon blue lights that rimmed the interior of the lounge, while her arms were supported by the elevated caps of her knees. Her lips were stretched into a hazed, lazy smile, butter soft and so wet they practically glistened underneath the minimal lighting. But Ichigo couldn't exactly explain the feeling stirring in him when he noticed her hair. 

It was long, shiny, fell effortlessly like a waterfall over her, spilled over her shoulders and neck, rimmed her face and intertwined with the tips of her thick eyelashes, framed her delicately moulded jawline, and finally fell to her side on the surface of the soft lounge seat. 

Dare he say it, she looked _good._

 _She looked unbelievably sexy._

Ichigo found himself coming to the realisation that he'd been staring at her for a good minute. If the night couldn't have gotten any weirder, she didn't seem to fight back or even think about shouting at him for looking at her. She just looked back with that same, lazy smile. 

"Yeah? You want something, Ginger shit?"

"Roll me one."

"Sure... why not?"

"Huh... _that's_ it."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow partially in disgust. Okay, so he wasn't totally disgusted by her aippearance. But this was plain _weird._

Was she actually voluntarily willing to roll a blunt for him? To give away her high grade weed, that he didn't deserve because he'd had her head stepped on a couple weeks back? Was she actually agreeing with him for the first time? 

Yeah. He _definitely_ preferred the normal, unfazed, satanic Rukia. 

What ichigo hadn't noticed, though, was that his body had slid off the seat between the two, onto the soft lounge seat next to the dark haired dwarf. He couldn't explain his movement at all, and he couldn't really think of calling her a dwarf at this point. 

His legs were shifted closer and closer to her thighs, which moved closer together as if she were trying to contain an uneasy feeling between her legs. Her face showed otherwise, still as relaxed as it were a minute ago, and she seemed to not react at all to the shortening distance between them. Ichigo wasn't _too_ sure as to why his body did what it did, but the let middle of his arm brush provokingly against the top side of her shoulder. He watched her collect the crumbled green substance to a pile, then neatly tuck it into the gold rolling paper she'd set out a minute ago, folding it over and rolling a perfect cylinder, sealing the side with her saliva. It looked downright sinful, the way pink tongue had left the slit between her two lips and lubricated the gold paper so _elegantly_. 

Ichigo knew it was dirty to think about, but he just kept watching the midget do her... _thing._ He really hated to admit that she looked _fantastic_ right now: laid back, in her zone, rolling him a blunt herself, eyes narrowed, yet softened under the still illuminated influence of the club's neon blue and red lighting. He knew she was clearly under the influence of marijuana, but maybe she did have a calm side like this? God... she did look damn _gorgeous._

Then, Ichigo did something he couldn't control, but also didn't _want_ to stop. 

His arm reached out, hooking around the other side of her neck. He pulled her in, until her head leaned comfortably against his lower pectoral. 

Her skin felt _unbelivably cool._ As if she slept, studied and worked her whole life in snow, the blood vessels in Ichigo's arm constricted and his hairs stood erect, desperate to keep in the little remaining warm her icy aura had ultimately overtaken. He couldn't understand how a person's skin could be that _cold_ without all the structures underneath properly _functioning,_ but his eyes were distracted by her collarbones and neck which his arm hooked over. 

They were moulded over by the _milkiest_ cream of skin, that glistened along the red and blue light strips that shone over her, almost as if something clear like sugar were caramelised over the surface of her chest and neck. Dare he say it, Ichigo actually wanted to look closer and... taste her. 

_Whoa, she's looking hot, yeah, but control yourself, buddy. This is satan you're checking out._

Taking the blunt off her pinched fingers, he swung his head back, closed his eyes, and smoked himself into complete unconciousness. 

Ichigo woke up the next morning, laying on a soft surface. He rubbed his eyes. 

He'd come home after. Or did he? His head ached demonically, so he couldn't think straight at all for the moment. He'd been sleeping on his bed, in his apartment. But when did he ever come home? How did he drive home? 

Yesterday night remained a complete blur. There wasn't a _single_ detail Ichigo couldn't pick out and confirm, right after the moment Rukia handed him the blunt. Did she mix something else into his weed? Damn bitch, if she did, she'd get a piece of him real bad. But then again, Ichigo he smoked, he _smoked._ Into a complete other realm. He'd usually have someone he knew well accompanying him, but from what he could remember, only the stupid redhead could tell left from right in the least. Rukia had been out for the entire time. 

Ichigo dragged himself out of the warm surface of the mattress, and stood up. He walked over to the bathroom, opened his mirrored medicine cabinet, and swallowed two painkillers, staring at his reflection with disinterest. 

He looked back twice to the point below his jawline. A bruised, red patch occupied the space at the start of his neck, contrasted against the tan, smooth texture of his skin. 

Was that... a _hickey?_

No... no. No, no, _no._ That was impossible. He hadn't let _any_ of the groupies he met touch him yesterday night. He wasn't even into that in the first place, let alone letting a random woman leave marks on his body. His _precious_ body. He hadn't gotten into any fights yesterday night either, and even if he had, he wouldn't _dare_ to lose against a bunch of scrawny, dirty fists lunging at him. He knew for _a hundred percent certain_ he hadn't gotten intimate with red pubes; sure, the guy probably had trouble trying to get laid all his life, but he sure as hell didn't look like the type to seduce guys.

 _Oh, for fucks sake, Ichigo. Who're you trying to fool?_

Ichigo closed his eyes, and pressed his lips together. 

_Rukia did it._

All the events yesterday had pointed towards it. Eliminating every other person he'd come into contact with, Rukia was the _only_ one to share less than a millimetre of space between them. She's have had to roll him one of the fattest, biggest joints ever in order for him to be so damn high he'd agree to her giving him a hickey. He wanted to punch himself unconscious, then knock _her_ a punch too, for damaging his beautiful tan skin. But god... yesterday night. His skin didn't look anywhere _near_ as iridescent, creamy, edible, touchable, as hers, yesterday night.

He needed to stop thinking about her. He needed to stop thinking about all those tiny, tiny _beautiful and sinful_ details about her. He needed to stop thinking about the gentleness of her voice. He needed to stop thinking about their fingers intertwining and their foreheads touching and the clean, crisp, flowery scent of her neck underneath the heavy smoke that covered them under those illuminating red and blue club lights, before his memory gazed into a void of nothingness. 

He needed to remember she was a miniature remake of Lucifer himself, an annoying brat, an emotionless, boring, and _moody_ midget. 

Entering the field department's top floor office, Ichigo witnessed the usual morning sight. Soifon and Chad talked quietly and clicked away at the joined, large computer screens in the desk area, Ikkaku and Renji organised the arms cabinet, Yumichika engaging in some sort of video conference with an iPad in the glass bordered meeting area. He couldn't quite catch sight of sixty-nine face or big-tits anywhere, though. 

He also couldn't find the tiny Satan, either.

 _Not that that's a bad thing._

Dropping himself into the leather chair of his desk, he took out the task documents filling up his desk hole, and examined them. _If it's a bunch of stupid escorts again..._ he mumbled angrily while trying to make sense of all the useless, long formal writing in each client letter. Coding was _way_ easier. 

Ichigo almost let out a scream when he found Rangiku's nose about a centimetre away from his. A second later, Shuhei's muscular left arm latched around his neck. 

" _So, how'd it go?"_

 _"Did you fuck? Come on! Details bro!"_

And for once, Ichigo actually had nothing to say. He couldn't even believe what he was hearing from these two. _What_ were they talking about? Did they roll a joint or something after breakfast? 

Then it hit him. 

What if Rukia, _assuming_ she'd given him the hickey, had come home, regained actual awareness of her actions after the weed wore off, and called the others telling them about how she'd sucked a patch of his neck dry? Had she told them everything? Had she told them that he'd touched her, even if she was at the edge of losing all her rational sense? God, if the others were to hear about it, he wouldn't hear the end of it. Isshin would probably start blabbing some sort of nonsense about getting married or something as soon as he'd find out from them. But Rukia didn't seem like the person to go out and tell someone else. She was probably so humiliated 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know! Your _hickey!_ We know you and Ru were stuck together yesterday night at the _Palm!"_

 _"W-where did you hear that from?"_

 _"Renji told us!"_

From the corner of his eye, Ichigo could see the redhead glaring back at him. He knew best to keep his mouth shut with everyone else in the building, so he thanked him internally for that. Ikkaku probably didn't care, and Chad and soifon were always so hardworking they probably didn't care either. 

"So?! What else did you do? Did you fuck?"

"Don't say the word 'fuck' Shuhei. Be a bit more frilly, can't you? It sounds so _harsh._ Unless you _were_ being harsh with her in bed... Did you sleep with her, Ichigo?"

"Okay, okay. I don't know _where_ you two got the idea I that I slept with her from, but I really haven't. And cut that bullshit, I could do _way_ better."

Ichigo rolled his eyes irritatedly after they released him, with Rangiku mouthing an 'Oooo!' and Shuhei wincing out of empathy for Rukia, who still hadn't arrived yet. He wondered if she'd already come in earlier, and had to face this annoying confrontation already by the always-sexually excited pair. 

_Speak of the devil._

Rukia walked in through the lift doors, shuffled through the smooth, grey marbled floor, and stiffly sat down at her desk opposite him. 

She didn't say anything, she didn't look at anything in particular either; she just sat down, slumped back in her chair for comfort, and clicked mouse, logging into the monitor opposite his. Her expression remained the usual; uninterested, emotionless, and slightly occupied by unknown thoughts. Rangiku clearly didn't find any entertainment in this, so she disrupted the petite Satan's peace with a paper ball.

"Hey. What's up with you, moody?"

"What're you talking about?"

"Cut the crap, Ru. We know you were out and at it with Ichigo yesterday night! We even have a hickey on him to prove it!"

Ichigo watched her eyes widen ever so slightly out of the abruptness of Shuhei's comment. He could also see Renji and Ikkaku curse something about him as they strode past the scene, and disappeared into the elevator without further notice. Chad and Soifon seemed to tidy their things too; probably a joined escort? Or just a busy schedule? Well, whatever, better for him. This particular 'scene' Shuhei and Rangiku were holding up wouldn't spread onto the others. It was entirely stupid, at best. Yumichika still talked away at the IPad in the secluded meeting room.

Ichigo hadn't had his eyes off the three behind him for more than forty-five seconds, and already he could hear Shuhei struggling to breathe surrounded by Rukia's tightly locked arm before turning around again.

Rangiku sighed and tugged her off. 

"You can't just do that, Ru! What's with you, huh? Shuhei didn't even say anything offensive!"

"Yeah? Well he _assumed_ I was easy to get into bed with. That _is_ offensive."

"It was just a joke! Jeez, Ru..."

"You're allowed to call me that anymore, fuck-face."

 _Fuck-face. That's funny,_ Ichigo snorted.

 _And you're wrong bitch. I can get you into a bed in no time._

Just when the entire situation couldn't get anymore hectic than it already was, Isshin stood outside the descending elevator door, with his head at an angle and one eyebrow raised in questionable confusion.

Ichigo could hear Shuhei's head connecting with the floor after the petite Satan let go. Rangiku smiles cheekily with her thumb up.

"Hey, Shin... ah. What's up?" She obviously couldn't explain the situation to him, either, so she just sat there and gulped anxiously. 

"Clearly I walked in at the wrong time," he started in a comical tone. "But I just came up to see how things were going. Did you _already_ have a fight, kid? For God's sake... Shuhei's the most harmless out of the bunch, and you target _him?"_

Ichigo's eyes rolled. He sunk further into his chair and glared up at Isshin.

"I didn't do it. She did."

"Ruki? You did it? What did I tell you... you've got o stop being so hot headed and harsh all the time. One of these day's Shuhei's gonna turn on you if you keep treating him like you are! Rangiku! You should've controlled this-"

"But I _was,_ Sir! I tried to get her off but-"

" _Wait. Ichigo."_

At this point, Ichigo could identify the complete seriousness of his old man's voice. It even sounded kind of _scary,_ seeing as he was always so full of stupid happy energy and pranced around like a clown half the time at home. Hell, his eyebrows were even furrowing in suspicion.

But he could also see that Isshin had stared right at his neck. 

At the hickey. 

"Is that a-"

Without finishing his sentence, Ichigo, Isshin, Rangiku, and Shuhei pauses after hearing a loud thud. They turned back in unison. 

Rukia lay there, on the floor, eyes closed, completely out. 

It'd been 3 hours since Rukia's fall, and Isshin had immediately rushed her to the infirmary, where she laid unconcious on a soft lined bed. Ichigo was surprised the thing was so soft and comfortable; heck, the entire fucking hallway of rooms made the S.S building look like a specialist hospital of some sort. He wasn't surprised at how prepared Isshin was to take in casualties at spontaneous times of need. 

Rangiku and Shuhei had also waited for the first half hour for their petite 'friend' to wake up, but they soon disappeared at a call for their next scheduled duties. Isshin had to rush to a meeting, so he forced Ichigo to sit and wait for her to wake up, which he _really_ didn't want to do. 

He wanted to avoid any contact possible with her, after what he'd found on his neck in the morning, actually. God... what the fuck was he supposed to say if she woke up? _'How're you feeling'_ seemed too concerning, and Ichigo _definitely_ didn't concern for her, so he'd probably just get up and leave. He didn't even know why he was still sitting in the room. The sofa, as warm and comfortable as it was, started to irritate him. 

Slowly, but surely, he noticed in the corner of his gaze; the stupid dwarf had woken up, stretching and yawning as if she'd taken the most _convenient_ nap of the century. 

Ichigo grew even more irritated. 

"Morning." He commented dryly.

" _God_ , that was a _good_ nap."

His eye twitched in horror. 

What the _fuck_ did she just say? A good _nap?_ She was _napping_ the whole time? She just fell to the floor randomly because she wanted to _nap?_ He'd sat here for almost four hours waiting for her to wake up from a fucking _nap?_

Ichigo's head cocked robotically to the side. Rukia's eyebrows raised and relaxed, while her hands rubbed her eyes and covered her mouth as she yawned further. He could feel the blood in his vascular system boiling into red vapour. He could feel the muscles in his arms heating and his fist trembling in need to lung at her. But about seventy percent of his flaming _rage_ had disintegrated after properly examining her face. 

She sat there. _Smiling._

It wasn't an evil smile, or a smile evoked from so much anger in herself that she'd forgotten how to express the right emotion at the right time: it was just a simple, dare he say it... _sweet_ smile.

One he'd only _just_ remembered she'd given him in the _Palm, yesterday night._

He growled slightly under his breath, then slumped back into the sofa.

"What the fuck do you mean, _nap?"_

Exactly what I said. It was a good nap."

"Ok. I'm done here." 

Ichigo decided it wasn't worth his time, and stood to his feet, heading for the door. He didn't need to look at that dumb smile, or that stupid messy low bun, or that uniform that cling to her cinched waist and the badges and pins that adorned her chest pocket. He _still_ couldn't figure out why he'd stayed for this long, waiting for her to wake up. 

"You wanna know why I faked passing out in the office?"

He stopped in his track, and turned back. She sat there, still smiling. 

"Like I care-"

 _"So Shin couldn't ask you about that hickey."_

Ichigo swallowed. How did _she_ know about how he never heard the end of it from his dad? 

He turned back, and for some reason, sat back onto the soft lounge again.

"I know how he is. He's persistent with a lot of stuff. Especially about... ah, _relationships."_

"You don't _know_ anything about my family, _bitch_. Don't talk about him like you know his personality and fucking everything in between-"

"I'm not implying that I do."

Rukia's smile fell. Her expression grew dark, emotionless, and unamused again. Ichigo glared straight into the centre of both her pupils, hoping her eyeballs would just burn off altogether. 

But she just stared back, without blinking, without even moving. 

"What I do know, though, is that you've _got_ family who look twice at you. Must be nice."

Ichigo's eyes steadily glared in focus with hers for an entire minute, then closed. He swung his head back in silence for another minute, eyebrows still furrowed in irritation. 

"You gave me the hickey, didn't you?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Shut up. Did you tell anyone?"

"I don't broadcast my neck sucking to other people."

"Renji kept giving me death looks this whole morning. He obviously saw something, midget."

"Yeah... well he _was_ sitting in front of us. He probably just got bored and left."

"Why did you suck my neck then?"

"I don't know, ginger shit. I just did. I felt like... we were on the same wavelength. I've never gotten equally high with anyone until you."

"Yeah? You've been hanging round with newbies, then. And red pubes seems more like a drinker than a smoker to me."

"Right on that."

Involuntarily, Ichigo found his facial muscles conforming a smirk. He could even hear himself laugh. 

He stood to his feet again, noticing that a relaxed, yet emotionless Rukia stood to her feet too, and walked past him to grab her ID lanyard and keys that had fallen along with her a couple hours ago. Ichigo rolled his eyes. 

"Just so you know, I don't think I've ever _been_ and will _ever be_ on the same wavelength as you, midget." 

Rukia tugged the collar from the side of her black uniform shirt, and combed falling raven strands away from her neck. She looked over her shoulder back to him.

Her eyes were flickering with the coldest of violet and blue hues, and her eyelids were narrowed.

" _You must've been at some point._ " 

Moving her collar down, the petite Satan, revealed an equally bruised, red patch, though much darker as contrasted on her creamy, cool skin. 

She walked off without another word, keys clicking together, leaving Ichigo standing in the room alone, and quite funnily, shocked. 

He smirked. 

_Rukia Kuchiki. You're gonna be a real piece of work for me._

 **HEY GUYS! GOOD GRIEF IVE BEEN SO DISGUSTING AND BUSY AND LEFT EVERYONE ON AN ANNOYING CLIFFHANGER, NOT TO MENTION ANGERED EVERYONE FOR NOT UPDATING WITH A CHAPTER FOR A MILLION YEARS NOW.**

 **So we've started to see some initial intimacy between our naughty sun and moon, THERE WILL BE MORE BONDING IN FUTURE AND THIS CHAPTER WAS GOING TO BE LONGER BUT I DIDNT WANT TO DELAY GETTING THIS ONE OUT ANY FURTHER SO NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE COMING.**

 **HOPE YOU ENJOYED AND REMEMBER.**

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	8. Chapter Eight

A month or two went by sooner than it felt. As if the DIGS software had been advertised out to the entire world to see, the number of registries of illegal trading companies, assassin recruitment parties and almost every other type of unindexed institute had increased on a seemingly logarithmic scale, to which Ichigo both found inconvenient, _somewhat_ beneficial to his salary, which at this point could be considered a water droplet into the ocean, and worthy of investigating a little further. He'd have loved to sit down and explore more, but Isshin deemed it an utmost _nessecity_ to withstand the uneven balance between day and night careers, as if managing the DIGS software wasn't three careers worth enough. Ichigo's morning and evening schedules were filled to the brim with escorts, reports, filing, and the weekly mass arrests commanded by himself and his _particularly_ shorter partner.

He hadn't engaged in a single conversation of remote intimacy with her since that day about the hickey issue. Hell, he couldn't even remember if he had even said anything _normal_ to her, other than when they spoke about work. Ninety percent of the time, it worked out great for the both of them, since he didn't appreciated her stupid, emotionless attitude and she didn't seem to look at him properly whenever he asked her something, which he also found _infuriating._ But Ichigo was _way_ too busy to be thinking about this kind of thing anyway. Sundays were boxing with Chad and Tatsuki, then going out for drinks with Keigo, Mizuiro, and Uryuu and the stupid family dinners Isshin _insisted_ he attend for the sake of seeing his _beloved_ sisters.

He didn't have time for thinking about _her,_ despite the itch in his throat to set her straight everytime she talked to him like he was a pet of some sort.

Mid december, Seven-thirty in the evening, the time read on his phone display. The cityscape displayed outside the top floor Field office's windows darkened quickly in the few hours of light, and made it seem as if it already struck twelve in the morning. It did actually make him feel a little tired, to which he shook his head lightly and swung his head back, supposedly waiting along with the other eight for Isshin to arrive.

For the last week, brief conversations were flowing round about an upcoming operation regarding a specific criminal group. Operations were common on a monthly basis, consisting of one hundred field agents and three to four S8 members commanding them into their respective units. All participants of each monthly operation were required to take training measures beforehand, and meet frequently with their commanders in meetings to formulate their actions. Operations were executed mostly within a day or two, some cases where employees were required to stay overnight in the target area. Ichigo had to sit through all the explanation at least twice, once by Soifon, which he didn't mind hearing because she was so fast paced and blunt with her words, once by Isshin, which he sat through with gritted teeth and a pulsing fist, and one 'half' with Ikkaku, which ended up in bruises, a scarred bald head and a black eye. This operation, unlike the rest, seemed to worry Soifon and Chad more; not that they'd shown it in their faces, but talked a lot about and often reminded the others with to stop messing around during work hours.

Ichigo turned his head slightly, still laid back, and found Yumichika and Rangiku laughing at something on flower boy's phone. God, he'd been thankful for escaping his intensively 'friendly' demeaneour recently. Ichigo had about a hundred percent confidence he swung both ways.

He turned his head the other way, and found Rukia, slouched into her chair, with her eyes closed.

 _Ugly as ever._

Ichigo had finally been able to see the others at work together when they'd all engaged in the monthly mass operation a week ago. The eight, plus Ichigo himself, were flown over to a very small island in the many that formed the Phillipines, and spent three days locating, fighting, restraining and finally legally arresting a team of two hundred men involved in a small heroin trade. The stuff was high grade, but the team were easy enough to take on by eight people alone. Well, nine people.

Nine people who so casually possessed an astronomical fighting ability.

Ichigo had observed everything; in the moments that stayed unoccupied in the warehouse they invaded, where bodies were unconcious and limp at his feet, he watched the other eight at work. They were _amazing;_ fast paced, efficient, clean bodily movement, fluidity and minimal damage, with the exception of intending to knock about one hundred and fifty men conscious and refrain from beating them to death. Well, Ikkaku tried.

He did specifically remember the midget in the scene, too. She was tiny, yeah, but _damn_ she could move fast. None of the drug trade members were able to get a single finger onto her, from what he saw. It was as if she could predict their movements and arm swings before they'd thought to do each thing. Like she could tell the future.

 _That makes her all the more weirder,_ he muttered internally. _Anyway, she couldn't do anything to me. She wouldn't, either._

"What're you looking at?"

Ichigo's head deflated in spite of her voice, that basically just farted over his current thoughts. He rolled his eyes.

"A mistake."

"Vain to check yourself out all the time."

"You're funny."

"Thanks-"

"Sike. I wanna kill you."

"But you wouldn't. Because you're a good person inside and out."

"Yeah... unfortunately. But... where'd you learn to fight like that?"

Ichigo really did find himself wanting to ask the petite Satan about her fighting abilities. She just seemed so professional at self defence, and seemed to do so well specifically in close range. She also looked really in the zone when she fought, too. Maybe thousands of lessons at the Kuchiki Estate? Expensive tutors? Some sort of brainwashing lecture series over weekend dinners with Byakuya himself?

Maybe.

She just yawned, and kept her eyes closed, and fiddled with a bit of ripped paper in her hands, slouched down to the point of falling if she went any further.

"Classes. And the training programme to get to this rank."

"That's it?"

"What does that mean? The training programme to get here is seven years. What else do you expect?"

"I don't know... Satanic powers or something?"

"Shut up."

He found his gaze averted to the lift entrance door, where Isshin emerged with two figures walking behind him.

A dark skinned, slender, _beautiful_ woman dressed in an immaculate black suit, followed by a blonde man of possibly equal age wearing an equally black, immaculate suit, both approached the meeting table with Isshin, where at this point, all nine were staring at them. Ichigo noticed the petite raven sitting next to him had completely changed moods, now looking intently at the foreign couple who seemed a little _too_ relaxed.

Isshin coughed gently into the back of his hand, and all quietened down.

"Alright, kids. These special people are Yoruichi Shihōin and Kisuke Urahara. They're both the top district attorney heads in Tokyo, and they'll be helping us on this operation specifically."

The dark skinned woman smirked, closing her eyes. The blonde man laughed.

"God, Isshin. We're not all that fancy."

"She's right, folks. We're just here to try and help you tie loose ends for this next operation you're dealing with, which there are _many_ to tie, should I comment, should we get down to business?"

Rangiku seemed to be fidgeting beside Rukia, and Ichigo could literally hear her mumbling under her breath. Goddamn.

"Uh... Sorry, District Attourney Heads, but-"

"Just call us by our names, hun."

"Shouldn't we introduce ourselves too? We're very grateful for your help... so we should at least-"

" _Nonsense,_ Rangiku. They know all about you kids already. No need for introductions. Anyway, we've got a lot of stuff to get to." Isshin interrupted with a seemingly comical smile, in which after, he, Yoruichi and Kisuke sat down. Yoruichi fiddled with a remote, controlling the screen that ascended from the middle of the ceiling, while kisuke scrolled through a couple of notes. He lifted his head up, and slumped back into his chair. The other nine in front of him looked back in slight confusion. He seemed bonkers, at best.

"So, what do you guys know about this operation so far? Names, details, themes, locations. Anything you've started on so far. We've seen your reports and previous research, but shout out the basic stuff," Kisuke started, twirling his tablet stylus between his thumb and index finger,

"Alright. Three suspiciously big withdrawals from Karakura International Main Bank, around half an hour apart. Cameras show three tall figures, two males and a female. Drove a black SUV together from the bank to Inuzuri Docks, and no whereabouts after that." Soifon commented sharply with her arms crossed. Ichigo had to give it to her; the woman really did get straight to the point. Heck, he even appreciated the clarity of her talking.

"Three days later, one guy goes on a big ass shopping spree at a local shooting range a couple blocks away from here. Bought all the arms there, apparently, with a card. Unknown merchant, apparently. Doesn't say shit on the statement," Ikkaku added.

"We suspect it's one of the two guys who took money out the bank before. But the merchant isn't anywhere to be found, either. We asked the locals... nothing." Shuhei continued.

"It wouldn't have been much to investigate if everything so far happened. But we had around four hundred people disappearing in a huge warehouse that used to be a theatre about a mile west from our headquarters. Three days later, actually. No belongings, I.Ds, phones, even clothes were left. Assuming the kidnappers got rid of any evidence to prevent the victim's identity being revealed. No one seems to be talking about lost people, either, on the news." Yumichika interjected, making one too many hand gestures. Ichigo felt the motion of the midget's eyeballs rolling beside him, and snorted slightly.

 _I don't blame you. He's gay, for sure._

Kisuke, slumped back the entire time, then straightened himself up in the soft plush seat, and pouted thoughtfully.

"Right. You guys are pretty observant. Great, you've got the basics. But, Yoruichi and I did some more digging and we think we've got a couple ideas for you to explore through."

At that moment, Yoruichi had tightened the purple-blackish, slick ponytail on her head, and placed a perfectly manicured hand on her hip, tapping the large screen.

"I spent a few weeks getting 'friendly' with a couple of gangs in the central Tokyo area, and found quite a bit out. Apparently, we've been having more and more drug purchases by another three men, this time. But we're not talking weed. We're talking Scolipolamine, Crystal Meth, and Opioids like AH-7921. Things that essentially, would screw a person's brain, heart, and blood vessels to death. I assume the buyers are wacky scientists, and it's not a light thought. I'm dead serious. I'd recommend one of you to look into that."

"I think the reason why we're all so het up on this event is because these weirdos keeping doing everything three days apart, three people always doing three activities at three different times with three different time intervals so far. It literally _can't_ be a coincidence anymore," Renji commented.

"You're right, Abarai. So our final thoughts are this. Weapons, and drugs, and loads of missing people. I don't think this is just any sort of _general_ Mafia or Mob or criminal group or whatever. I think it's the Yakuza. But a sub-group. A separate organisation branches off the main Yakuza. An independent chain... you could think of it as. With an entire group working for a leader... or _three,_ who knows?"

The way the word _three_ curled off the tip of Yoruichi's tongue actually made Ichigo shiver. Not that it sounded seductive or arousing or anything, but he just didn't like hearing the same number over and over again. He was probably the weirdo redhead was talking about earlier, with his stupid OCD of number sequences and frequencies.

 _That's what the DIGS does to you._

" _Anyway,"_ Isshin smiled with the pure intention to calm the subject down. "Let's call it a day today. You've all been scheduled for so many escorts this week, to be fair. I just wanted you to know that you've got two of the smartest people in Japan helping you out for this operation, so honestly. I want you guys to take it slow and steady with it. At times, we might have to prioritise the event to stop any other kidnappings or murders, etcetera, but this is a form of operation you can get creative on. I support all research methods, apart from hardcore interrogation, er, _Ikkaku, Shuhei, Ichigo."_

Rangiku raised an eyebrow for a moment, then furrowed both towards Isshin.

"So, if we want to report any findings to Yoruichi and Kisuke, how to we contact them, Shin?"

"Ah. They'll actually be working directly in the buildings with us, for the next couple months. We're all in my office, to be more specific. So come next door if you've got anything to share."

And with that, the nine, Kisuke, Yoruichi, and Isshin disbanded for the evening.

 _Great,_ Ichigo tutted internally, finding that he just _had_ to be walking behind the petite Satan, who strode silently to the locker room with multiple keys clanking at her waist. He fumbled around with his locker door, pulling out his own car keys, wallet, I.D, and a lollipop he forgot Yuzu gave him a week ago.

 _Finally,_ he was going _home._ To his _bed._

Turning around, he viewed _her._ She also picked up her stuff from the metal locker, which towered over her like some sort of gigantic grandfather clock, and turned back to view him.

They looked at each other with no disturbance, for five whole seconds.

Which Ichigo considered a lot, to be honest. He couldn't look at her for more than three, without throwing up over her nauseating height and her disgustingly simple, unamused facial expression. God knew how they'd engage in staring contests, which would last for minutes before he forced her head to look the other way.

Not that he'd even want to do a a stupid contest with her, about anything, anyway. Or touch her face to force her to look the other way.

He didn't realise that amidst all his current thinking, he was _still_ looking at her.

"Want something?" She asked out into the silence, wrinkling her nose in unamusement with blunted, narrowed, eyes. Her voice seemed even deeper than usual in the emptiness of the locker room. Well, Ichigo wouldn't even call it that, purely because it mimicked the size of his goddamn master bedroom in his penthouse. He also couldn't help but feel a little threatened from her somewhat sharper-than-usual tone.

"Coffee, actually. And some cake... Chocolate cake."

"Yeah? Well I need some too."

"You _really_ think I'm gonna drink coffee with _you_."

"You did last time. _And_ you apologised. Probably the only time you ever did in your life."

 _You would never know, bitch._

"Are you serious? You're not actually going to follow me, are you?"

"No. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I know shitty gingers like you go to shitty cafes for shitty coffee. You'll never catch me drinking the commercial stuff you chug everyday."

"So you really are a prissy uptight high maintenance brat? To think I _genuinely_ thought you _weren't_ like your brother. Fuck you and your expensive coffee."

"Keep talking, _Ichigo. Idiots_ talk."

"That makes you an idiot."

" _Bigger_ idiots react."

And before he could lash out his next reply, she strode off.

He could physically feel the blood in his veins boil, and the hypertension following each hot bubble. What on _earth_ could've made him suck the blood out of a portion of her neck? Sure, he'd been under the influence of weed. But either way, he never smoked himself to _that_ extent of insanity.

She'd just walked off, with no further word. With her stupid keys, stupid uniform stupid tied hair, and stupid face. If she wanted to get a drink with him so bad, why did she find it nessecary to start another stupid arguement?

 _Women_ these days.

Whatever. He slammed the door a little too hard behind him, and stomped into the top floor elevator.

 _Choke on your dumb, expensive coffee, Satania._

Ichigo wasn't really interested in amusement parks. Tourist attractions, funfairs, festivals, carnivals, anything involving balloons, cotton candy, screaming kids and clingy couples and young, bored adults. He found that people who got bored easily were boring themselves, and wouldn't devote their initially low talents to learning something new for a change, turning it into a hobby or a business or something like that. He stood happy to follow his own perception of this, quite proudly.

True, he wasn't bored, and his friends weren't either, because of the busy, Tokyo lifestyle, but it was December. Annually, before Christmas, parks around the city would host enormous winter fairs, literally setting up an entire amusement park for city residents to enjoy on cold, Tokyo nights. For some reason, he let Keigo and Tatsuki and Chad and Orihime and Uryu and Mizuiro drag him along, when one day back in high school, Keigo suggested they hit the fair to kill time before heading home. Keigo only actually suggested it to go look at the pretty fair volunteer girls, but ever since, they hadn't missed one day.

So here he stood in front of an ice cream place, holding Orihime and Keigo's shopping bags; _lord_. Who the fuck even sold ice cream in the freezing winter season? Tatsuki just up and left to the other end of the park with mizuiro to buy dumplings, or something? Jeez, why couldn't she just buy dumplings anywhere else? Orihime and Keigo left all their crap with him, and ran off into the crowd for some reason, with Chad probably following along to avoid any fans attacking her after seeing her through her sunglasses and heavy coat.

 _Sunglasses in winter. You've always been a weirdo, Orihime._

Ichigo turned over to look at his pale, four eyed friend. Uryu Ishida, AE Doctor at Ken Hospital, Tokyo Branch. The guy practically never smiled and acted more like a mom to him than anybody else. He scolded, swore, complained, taunted, ranted, and expressed his own annoyed, negative, but on the contrary calm, and observant thoughts with him. He didn't even like the guy the first time they met in high school. He was stuck up, quiet, and always pitied the rest of the class, and Ichigo always thought about where he'd aim his fist on his body during English lessons. They argued a lot, Uryu taunted him when he got the bad marks, and Ichigo teased his glasses during gym class, but they shared a _somewhat_ similar wavelength almost all the time.

Hanging out with Uryu, in other words, kept him calm and content.

He shifted his frame over his eyes, and looked back.

"What?"

"Nothing. You're depressed, as usual."

"It's my face, idiot. I could say the same thing about you, anyway."

"Yeah... whatever."

"So. How's work at the S.S?"

"It's alright. Better than I thought. There's boring stuff, like paperwork, and filing, and reports, and analytics and all that shit. But I've done escorts and a couple of underground operations too, with the rest of those clowns."

"You're one to talk."

"Shut up."

"Oh... Yeah. You're working in the S8 Squad. I can't believe Kuchiki has to work with you."

"Everyday. Call her Satan, instead. Fits her better."

"Again. You're one to talk. You practically shitted all over her the first time you guys met. You can't treat women like that."

"Problem is, she isn't one. I'd say... a rat. At best."

"You're a piece of work."

Why the hell did four-eyes have to talk about _her?_ Just when the night was getting better... well, not _better._ More like, just as he actually got comfortable on the cold park bench outside the ice cream place.

To be truthfully honest, Ichigo didn't find her _that_ annoying anymore. Sure, they'd argue every two hours at work, and everytime they did, she'd talk o him with the calmest, coldest, most patronising voice and the _dumbest,_ emotionless look on her face, but he found himself controlling his anger better and better as the days at the S.S passed. The same with the others. Yumichika wasn't as creepy, Rangiku wasn't as air headed, and actually made him laugh, Ikkaku and Shuhei sparred often with him, Renji taught him about arms and even shot with him, and Soifon seemed to talk about Isshin and his incapabilities with him, which he definitely believed. Chad obviously stayed the same, which Ichigo had _always_ appreciated in his life, and, well... _She_ wasn't as bad as she used to be.

To be technical, she wasn't actually at fault. Most of the time, he'd be the one to start something, anyway.

 _Pat on the back for you, man._

Uryu stood up and dropped the bags from his hands. He yawned, and eyed his watch.

"It's late. I'm going home. Tell Mizuiro we've got a shift tomorrow at eight, and make sure one of the others takes Orihime home."

"Yeah, okay. Later."

He watched Uryu disappear into the now quietened down crowd.

 _There's no reason for me to stay, either,_ he pondered, and fumbled in his pocket for his phone. He decided he'd just have to call one of the others back to look after the bags. No way he would lug all their shit home.

Ichigo hesitated at one point, squinted slightly into the crowd. A blonde woman in the distance, laughing over at one of the food stalls caught his attention, for a second. Not because of her, er, _enormous assets,_ but more because of her voice.

That wasn't, Rangiku, was it?

It was.

She was surrounded by a few other women, who Ichigo didn't recognise. Probably her actual friends. He couldn't see Soifon; maybe she had friends of her own? He couldn't see the midget, either.

He doubted she had any _mutual peers,_ let alone friends.

He also almost died when he turned his head back.

Rukia sat there on the tabletop of the bench, legs fully folded together, holding a steaming hot, styrofoam cup, with the same, _dumb,_ relaxed look on her face. Ichigo could feel his nose wrinkle in disgust.

"Don't make a scene. Rangiku's looking for me," she commented a bit _too_ calmly for his liking. Well, she talked to him like he was a kid half the time, anyway. What was the point in getting all worked up?

He rolled his eyes, and cracked his jawbone. He wouldn't react. He wouldn't care. He just had to play her the same way she played him. He'd go with everything she said, just to avoid starting any real arguement with her. He _really_ didn't need this on top of his already aching head.

Listlessly. Calmly. And emotionlessly.

"Yeah. I got it."

"You're not going to bully me today?"

"I don't really _care_."

"Damn. What happened to you overnight? Anyway, taste this hot chocolate. It's like a hug from the lord."

 _The lord doesn't want to hug you, bitch._

Ichigo stared at the cup extended from the midget's hand. He wondered for a moment if she'd poisoned it. No surprise there, actually. Or what if she spat in it? No... not likely. He'd cut her to pieces if he found out, but how would he find out?

His overwhelming thoughts went blank the second his view moved to her eyes.

They were deep blue, yet violet in the most natural way. They were narrowed, as per usual, pupils dilated, but bore a very gentle, calming glow to them. They didn't shimmer, or sparkle like Orihime's eyes when she talked happily. They didn't glint like Tatsuki's, when she rambled proudly and mischievously.

They just glowed. And for some reason, they didn't overwhelm him. He could feel something in the pit of his heart cool down, looking at her eyes for thirty seconds, or so. Again, he hadn't realised he was looking at her for a considerably awkward length of time.

Her eyebrows furrowed.

"So... are you going to drink it, or not?"

He blinked, leaving her slow gaze, then rolled his eyes again.

"Just tell me you wanted to buy me a drink. It's not that shameful."

"Not really. I had some already, and couldn't start on this one. I'm skipping out on dinner because of how filling it gets."

"Lies."

"Alright. I'll just _take it back."_

Ichigo couldn't get his grip off the cup. It had the most intoxicatingly creamy, rich scent. Like _real_ chocolate, and not artificial, sickeningly sweet stuff he'd usually drink.

No way he'd let her take it back. He needed this drink, at the very least. And he didn't care if it was childish.

"I'm gonna drink this in front of you right now, bitch."

"Remember. Say 'itadakimasu.'"

"You don't really say that, do you?"

"Of course I don't."

His body pulsed in response to the hot liquid that entered into his stomach, knocking the tip of the cup into his forehead out of pure content for a moment.

"Hate to say it, but it's good. The best I've had."

"I've had four cups, today."

His gaze averted to the neon fair lights.

 _Why not, Ichigo? Sit down. Just relax. She won't kill you, or anything._

Why the heck not?

He dropped onto the bench again, and looked straight ahead. Rukia stayed where she sat.

They didn't say anything for five minutes.

Five whole minutes. A long time to stay quiet, but he didn't mind it at all. In fact, he appreciated just how quiet it was for those five minutes. He couldn't hear her breathing at all. He could only hear the overwhelming sound of people in the background, Fair music, game machines and fryers in the food stalls.

Yet it all seemed so peaceful to him.

He was thankful she didn't talk much; if she did, he'd genuinely want to just end it all there. But she just sat there, and fiddled with a piece of paper in her hands. He didn't need to look at her to know she was doing that. Oddly enough, he just _knew._

Her deep, slow voice spoke out. She didn't turn to look at him. Her eyes stayed still.

"So. What's the DIGS creator doing at Tokyo's winter fair?"

"Save it. Friends force me to go every year."

"Interesting."

"What?"

"You have friends. I thought you only had Chad. But he's nice to everyone."

"Shut up. What're _you_ doing here?"

"Friends force me to go every year."

"I _know_ you don't have friends."

"Well. That's true. I have a couple, though."

"What, the S8 Squad?"

"Yeah. Rangiku's friends like me too, but I respect her own group. They grew up together and everything."

"Is there anyone you grew up with?"

"Well, before I was adopted, Renji. And Shuhei... and a guy named Izuru. We actually used to come here as kids. We didn't have money, or anything. But we used to steal people's food. Mess around with the rides. Annoy the fair girls... that stuff."

"You used to live on the streets?"

"Mhm. Not the best time, but I had the thrill of living back then."

"What about now?"

"What about you? We were supposed to be talking about the DIGS creator being at a fair."

"There's nothing to talk about. My friends go every year, so I go too."

"Does that include Orihime Inoue?"

"Yeah."

"That's cool. Oh, by the way. Don't act so naive. I know you guys dated, before."

Ichigo's eyebrows raised, then relaxed.

 _I won't bother reacting anymore._

 _Dad probably told her._

"I know because of the way she looks at you. She straight up melted everytime you looked at her when we escorted her to a recording studio a couple weeks back. You let your guard down with her, too."

"That doesn't mean we dated."

"But when you looked back at her, I saw guilt. Meaning you must've broken off something you both shared a while ago."

"Yeah? Don't know how you did it, but you're spot on."

"Eyes are the windows to the soul. That sounds smart."

"It's cringey as fuck."

"Yeah, you're right."

The midget left to her feet, out of the blue. Her sudden movements even startled him, too. And Just when she started to appeal to him. Well, not appeal, more like 'become existentially acceptable' to him.

"Well. It's late."

She didn't even say bye. She just walked off, passing him with her little frame, long flowing raven strands, and that mesmerizing, calm violet glow in her eyes.

 _I've never met anyone, like you, midget._

 **AND THAT's the END OF CHAPTER 8. LORD IT's TAKEN ME SOME TIME TO RELEASE THIS CHAPTER. IVE BEEN SO HEAD DEEP IN UNIVERSITY I'VE ALWAYS BEEN TO TIRED TO CONTINUE THIS ON AT REGULAR TIME INTERVALS. FORGIVE ME GUYS.**

 **Anyway, THE END TO ICHIGO's Starting POV! From next chapter onward, things will be more casual. There will be casual swapping between Ichigo and rukia's POVs next chapter.**

 **Also, my introductory for our main plot! A little odd and unusual to start off with, but things will slowly unveil. I'm sure everyone already knows who our holy trinity is in this story, but let's act like we don't know ;)**

 **REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW !!!!1!1!1!1**


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